


Moonshot

by AvaMclean



Series: The Circle Game [2]
Category: Anita Blake: Vampire Hunter - Laurell K. Hamilton, Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crossover, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Developing Friendships, Family Feels, Gen, Good Parent Joyce Summers, Hurt/Comfort, Sorry Not Sorry, Were-Creatures, Werecats
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:54:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 24,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26607811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvaMclean/pseuds/AvaMclean
Summary: Joyce just wants to keep her girls safe and the girls want, well, Dawn wants pizza, Buffy wants Dawn to stop stealing her stuff and Faith just wants a home. A series of stories in which they all get what they want—except Buffy. (Sequel to Many a Mile)
Relationships: Buffy Summers & Joyce Summers, Dawn Summers & Joyce Summers, Faith Lehane & Joyce Summers
Series: The Circle Game [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1900267
Comments: 16
Kudos: 39





	1. Moonshot

**Author's Note:**

> note: I am well aware of the fact that I’m adding to a short I wrote over 10 years ago. I’ve written 2 other stories to follow this one. Don’t look at me. I don’t know why either, but I do blame jezaeiri and Crunchysunrises for rekindling my interest in Anita Blake. If you’re not reading their stuff, you should 
> 
> The title Moonshot, which is a Buffy Sainte-Marie song, is mostly for aesthetic reasons rather than drawing inspiration from the song. One of meanings of moonshot is “a very challenging and innovative project or undertaking” and by damned if that doesn’t fit what Joyce is trying to accomplish in this story.

title: Moonshot  
rating: FR13  
prompt: touch starved @ hurt/comfort bingo

* * *

The scent of corndogs and sunscreen permeated the air and reminded Joyce Summers of the 4th of July and summers best spent on the beach. Except the ocean was several hundreds of miles away, but the wade pool she sat beside was a decent substitute. The corndogs were being enjoyed by a nearby family and Buffy was reapplying Dawn’s sunscreen for the second time that morning. 

Her youngest, fair skinned and blue eyed, was prone to burning if the proper precautions weren’t taken. Buffy tanned, much like her mother, and shared the same honey colored hair and hazel-green eyes as Joyce. Dawn’s hair was the same rich brown Hank’s had been and when brushed properly, and not filled with chlorinated water, it fell in thick waves down her back. It was currently tamed by two, slightly lopsided, French braided pigtails—though Buffy had still done a better job than Joyce would’ve managed. 

There was a reason most of the girls’ childhood photos had them in ponytails. Her sister Arlene, like their own mother, had the gift of nimble fingers that could knit a blanket or plait hair. She had been the one to take Buffy under her wing. Which resulted in her oldest being sure fingered enough to do her own hair but when it came to others, she stumbled a bit. Hence the lopsidedness, but still adorable look of Dawn’s pigtails. 

Buffy was rubbing the sunscreen across the bit of Dawn’s back bared by the two-piece swimsuit. Joyce wouldn’t have called it a bikini, it covered too much skin for that, and since Dawn was thirteen Joyce wholehearted supported the covering of skin. The top was two large triangles of fabric, front and back, with only about three inches of skin showing between top and high waisted bottoms. She looked adorable in the brightly patterned suit, but Dawn tended to take offense when she told her such things. 

Joyce had wisely kept her mouth closed that morning as they got ready to spend another lazy day at the waterpark attached to their hotel. They were in the Texas Panhandle awaiting the movers to finish bringing their furniture from Los Angeles to St. Louis and since it was going to take them five days Joyce had hunted up a resort for them to visit for at least half that time while their drive would eat up the rest. 

When they’d pulled into the resort Dawn, her copilot for this adventure, had squealed and Joyce knew she’d made the right call even if it had added four more hours to their journey. Buffy and Faith had beat them there but both had looked highly amused at the prospect of a lazy river and waterslides. Though they’d been forced to make an emergency visit to the local Walmart to get Faith a swimsuit and enough snack food to feed a small army—or two werecheetahs and a werelion. 

Buffy swatted Dawn’s damp butt and declared, “You are once again safe from sun exposure,” she yanked on a pigtail, “but keep an eye on those shoulders.” 

“Yes, Mom,” Dawn snarked and then looked to Joyce before rolling her eyes. 

“Why did you teach her to talk again?” Buffy tossed in her general direction. 

“It seemed like a good idea at the time.” 

“Hey!” Dawn pouted and then snatched her innertube with all the dignity she could muster while making a beeline for the waterslide. 

“Well that’s one way to end a conversation.” 

Buffy leaned back in her chair to enjoy the late morning sun. Her swimsuit covered substantially less skin than Dawn’s and Joyce dreaded the day her youngest went from cute swimsuits to triangle bikinis that gave her mother frown lines. Buffy had worn cute swimsuits and pigtails once, but she’d left those behind when puberty hit, and her body developed. 

Hank had been horrified by the looks his baby girl was suddenly being given by strangers and Buffy had found herself in an Akido class. She’d taken to it like a duck to water and stuck with it, and any other self-defense course Hank could talk her into, all the way through high school. 

Joyce fully intended to do the same with Dawn. 

“The moving pods should be delivered to the rental tomorrow.” Joyce told Buffy who turned her face towards before she continued, “I’ll call in the morning to confirm and if there’s a delay we can stay here another day or two.” 

“I’m not against more of this.” 

“I figured as much.” Joyce countered dryly. 

“Mom,” Buffy sat up, legs coming up from the length of the chair to cross beneath her as she propped her sunglasses on her head. “Thank you.” 

Joyce smiled. “I thought we all could use a little R and R.” 

“No,” Buffy shook her head, “I mean for everything. You’re moving halfway across the country for us—”

“You’re my girls,” Joyce interrupted, “I’d move anywhere to keep you safe.” 

Buffy’s shoulders slumped and she suddenly look so tired. “Well, we appreciate it,” a ghost of a smile quirked her lips, “and you.” 

“Buffy,” she drew her daughter’s gaze back to her, “If you need to talk. About _anything_. I’m here. I’ll always be here for you and Dawn.” 

A frown drew Buffy’s brows downward and Joyce nearly sighed in frustration. Since the attack Buffy tended to withdrawal whenever Joyce tried connecting or offered her help of any kind. Buffy stood, taking a moment to stretch her arms high above her head and it was Joyce’s turn to frown at the father of the corndog eating family as his gaze linger a little too long on her daughter’s tone form. 

Buffy moved closer to her chair and made a skootching motion with her hands. Joyce blinked up at her a moment before comprehension dawned and she scooted over enough for Buffy to sit on her chair and then her daughter spread across the length of the lounger with her. Her temple settled against Joyce’s shoulder and she dropped a kiss on the crown of her daughter’s head. 

“I love you.”

Joyce covered the hand that was wrapped around her bicep and replied, “I love you too.” 

It was too warm to cuddle with her teenage daughter, but Joyce would be damned if she asked her to move—regardless of the looks they were being given. “I think I should talk to someone.” 

Joyce considered this before prompting. “Like a therapist?” 

“Yeah.” 

“I’ll call Micah tomorrow.” Joyce would just add that to the mental list of questions she had for the leader of the Coalition. “I’m certain he’ll know someone you can talk to. Someone who’ll understand better than I would.” 

“You understand well enough.” 

Buffy relaxed against her and Joyce felt herself doing the same as the tension left them. She couldn’t remember the last time Buffy had willingly snuggled with her. Dawn still did—more so now than right before the attack—and she found she didn’t mind it. One of the pamphlets had mentioned touch was important to most shifters and Dawn had ended up in Buffy or her bed more often, than not. Buffy craved the same tactile confirmation of her presence and love just Joyce had when she was first born. She’d spent hours just watching Buffy sleep. Holding her. Loving her. 

A very wet Dawn plopped herself on the end of the lounger, laying across both their legs and Faith appeared, claiming the one Buffy had freed up. The bright red bikini covered more than Buffy’s but also showed off the redness of the brunette’s shoulders and Joyce realized she now had two girls that burned in the sun. Joyce sat forward to retrieve the sunscreen and Buffy grumbled as she was dislodged. 

“Help Faith with that,” and handed the SPF 40 reserved for Dawn to Buffy. 

Brown eyes watched her a moment before Faith laughed, “Are you momming me, Joyce?” 

“Any chance I get,” Joyce countered, “Now put on the sunscreen while we can discuss lunch.” 

“Pizza?” was Dawn’s hopeful contribution as Buffy got up and reclaimed her seat with Faith. 

“We had pizza last night.” Joyce was certain Dawn would eat pizza for every meal if given half the chance and her topping choices changed on a whim. 

“Burgers?” Faith countered as Buffy began applying the sunscreen to her already pink shoulders. Joyce spared a frown for the father again and he hurried to avert his gaze from the teenagers. 

“We have food in the room.” Buffy offered as she applied the sunscreen to Faith’s back. “I mean we have sandwich stuff and we could save the going out for dinner.” 

Faith shrugged. “I’m good with that.” 

Pleasantly surprised by the offer Joyce agreed, “That’s okay by me,” she reached a hand down to squeeze Dawn’s warm wet shoulder, “You good with that, Pumpkin?” 

Those shoulders shrugged against her legs. “Sure. Can I put salt and vinegar chips on my sandwich?”

“I don’t see why not.” 

“Ew. No.” 

Joyce and Buffy responded in tandem and shared a look before Buffy explained. “Salt and vinegar chips are gross.” 

“They’re not that bad.” Faith countered before she shot the littlest Summers a look. “What kind of sandwich are you thinking?”

“Tuna fish?” Dawn offered. “I think it’ll add a nice crunch.” 

“I don’t think we have tuna fish,” Joyce offered and found herself torn between curiosity and disgust. 

“Oh,” she paused to consider her options. “We have turkey, right?”

“Yes,” Buffy agreed as she recapped the sunscreen and tossed it in the general direction of Joyce’s bag. 

“That’ll work, but I want to try to tuna when we get to St. Louis.” Her head tilted back so that she could see Joyce’s face. “Think I’ll like my new school?” 

The sudden change in topic didn’t throw her—this was Joyce’s second round with a teenager after all—and she ran a hand down one of Dawn’s pigtails. “I think so. It’s a private school so a little different than you’re used to but there will be kids and teachers there so not too different.” 

Joyce left out that it been the only school willing to accept Dawn and that it cost more than Buffy’s first semester at UCLA. The lawyers promised Hank’s life insurance would be settled at some point in the near future and the house in LA would sell. She just needed to avoid the ulcers until then. 

“And if anyone screws with you, we’ll kill’em.” Faith offered and Joyce watched Buffy bare her teeth in a smile as Faith leaned back to lay against her. 

She also flipped off the father with the wandering eye while Buffy smirked against her shoulder. Joyce’s head inclined, watching them a moment and while she knew it was a shifter thing to want to touch and be touched, Joyce found she wouldn’t mind if Buffy and Faith became a couple. 

Her daughter had dated worse.

+

The hotel was nice enough to have ceramic coffee cups in the room’s kitchenettes but the coffee pods left something to be desired. Joyce had doctored hers with too much sugar and powdered creamer and wished she’d thought to pick up the creamer she liked while they were at Walmart getting Faith a swimsuit. 

She’d settled herself at one of the picnic tables set up sporadically around the hotel for smokers. Since it was only a little after six, and most other guests were vacationing, Joyce found herself sharing the morning with only one other woman—who was also sitting quietly and drinking coffee. 

Joyce took a sip of coffee before steeling herself. She had phone calls to make; one to the moving company to ensure their belongings had been delivered to St. Louis and the other to Micah Callahan to advise him of their pending arrival. He’d arranged for Faith to meet with the local werelions and he wanted to meet with Dawn and Buffy since there were no werecheetahs in the city. 

Micah had been nothing but kind to her, but Eric had been kind in the hospital and that left Joyce torn between concern with his interest and happy for it in the hopes that he cared. Another sip of coffee bolstered her courage. Joyce contacted the moving company first and learned the pods had indeed been delivered earlier that morning to their rental. Her stomach knotted a little before she called the number Micah had provided her. She’d called it once before to let him know they’d left California and he’d been courteous.

By the fifth ring Joyce’s already frayed nerves were thinning until a sleep rough voice that sounded younger than Micah, but just as male, answered, “Micah Callahan’s phone,” and Joyce found herself hesitating long enough that the voice asked, “Hello?”

One day, one hour, one minute at a time. Joyce let out a shaky exhale before she said. “This is Joyce Summers. Is Micah available? He’s expecting my call.” 

“One moment.” The sudden and soothing quality of their voice told Joyce they at least had some idea of who she was and why she was calling. 

“Hello, Joyce.” The familiar sound of Micah’s voice released some of the tension in her shoulders that she hadn’t realized was there. 

“Good morning, Micah. I’m sorry if I woke you.” He didn’t sound tired, but it didn’t hurt to be polite. Years of commissions sales in other people’s art galleries had taught her the art of client cultivation. 

“It’s alright. I take it your belongings were delivered today.” 

“They were, but we’re still in the Texas panhandle so we won’t be to St. Louis until sometime late this evening.” Joyce hesitated before clarifying, “Buffy and Faith will likely get there before Dawn and I.” 

“You drove separately.”

It was more of a statement than a question, but Joyce found herself explaining, “Buffy has her own car. It was a gift for her sweet sixteen and she’s taken good care of it aside from a sidemirror incident her junior year.” She flinched, realizing she was oversharing and tact on, “You don’t care about that. I’m sorry.” 

“I don’t know,” there wasn’t a trace of mockery in Micah’s tone as he finished, “sounds like it could’ve been serious at the time.” 

“Grounded and she had to pay to have the mirror replaced with factory parts.” Buffy had gotten a part time job that summer as a waitress to pay for it. She’d hated Helen’s Kitchen but not the tips that came with the job. 

“Serious,” Micah concluded before asking, “Would you like some assistance with moving in? You could all go to sleep in your own beds at a decent hour that way.” 

Joyce knew it was more than that and found the bravery to state, “And you’d be able to meet with my girls tonight.”

“You’re welcome to sit in on the conversations if Buffy and Dawn are comfortable with it.” Startled by the offer Joyce went quiet and forced Micah to make her name a question, “Joyce?” 

“Thank you.” Joyce couldn’t think of anything else to say on that, so she focused on the question Buffy had asked of her. “Does the Coalition have a therapist on staff or one they recommend for shifters?” 

“We do.” 

“Can you provide me with their contact information and if you have it, what insurances they take?”

“Coalition referrals receive a discount. The appointments have to take place after normal business hours. Our hearing makes it a requirement for patient confidentiality.” 

“Of course,” Joyce readily agreed before frowning and wondering just how good her girls’ hearing had become. “I had more questions for you, but I suppose they can wait until this evening. I’ll provide the pizza.” 

“I’ll bring two others so we can get you unloaded as quickly as possible.” 

“I’ll message you when Buffy and Faith get to the house.” 

“She drives that quickly?” 

There was laughter in his voice, and it made Joyce smile even as she clarified. “Yes, but Dawn likes to stop at the roadside attractions and I promised her at least one in Oklahoma.” 

There was actual laughter now and Joyce found herself smiling as they said their goodbyes. She retrieved her coffee and went back to watching the sky warm. A door opened behind her. Joyce glanced back to see it was to their shared room and Faith making her way to the picnic area. A brow rose at the fact that Faith was still clad in only her sleep shirt as she strolled barefoot through the dew ridden grass. 

Joyce glanced down at her fluffy robe and felt positively overdressed as the brunette took up the space directly next to her and stole her coffee. 

“Bleh, too sweet.” Even with the complaint Faith still took another sip before handing it back. 

“I’m sorry you didn’t find _my_ coffee to _your_ liking.” Joyce replied. 

“So Micah will be meeting us at the house.” 

Well that answered her question on how accurate her girl’s hearing was and Joyce nodded. “We’ll get to sleep in our own beds tonight.” 

“I’ll still be sleeping in B’s.” Joyce frowned and Faith hastily tact on, “I’m not complaining, Joyce. I don’t mind sharing with Buffy. ‘Sides Dawns the cover hog.” 

“Don’t I know it.” Joyce found herself smiling, “She’s always been that way. Ever since she was little she’d cocoon up,” she shook her head and refocused, “But I was more concerned with us getting you a bed of your own,” the frown was back because all Faith had really brought along with them was two duffels full of clothes and some paperwork. “And we’ll hit some consignment shops for bedroom furniture.” 

“Nah,” Faith shook her head, “Milkcrates work.” 

“I’m still momming you as you put it.” Joyce smiled, her own baring of teeth, “Deal with it.” 

Brown eyes studied her a moment before she gave a hesitant nod. Joyce turned her attention back to the world beyond them and wished for the courage to keep changing the things she could. The cloudless sky paled to blue as Faith settled herself against her side, head falling to rest on her shoulder, and Joyce finished drinking her coffee.


	2. Lay it Down

title: Lay it Down  
word count: 10771  
prompt: haunted @ hurt/comfort bingo

* * *

Grass crunched beneath the tires of the sedan as a member of his pard parked along the street. Summer had leached the green from most of St. Louis and this lawn was no different. Micah Callahan looked out the passenger window to the house that Joyce had rented for her family. Light spilled from the open front door, illuminating the porch and a portion of the driveway. 

“Nice place,” Zane cut the engine along with his casual observation.

The one-story house was setback from its neighbors with a fenced in backyard, but night leached all color from it. A Jeep Wrangler was parked behind two sixteen-foot containers that took up most of the driveway. The Jeep was a bit filthy, but cross-country trips tended to take a toll on the cleanliness of any vehicle. Micah assumed it belonged to Buffy Summers, as it was Joyce’s call that let him know the young women had arrived, and absently wondered which mirror it was that she’d knocked off. 

“It’s darling.” Merle drawled from behind Micah. “Shouldn’t we be getting out?” 

A seatbelt released, drawing Micah’s gaze to Zane as he freed himself. His white blonde hair, not dissimilar in color to the Jeep in the muted light, had been left to wave around the top of his head rather than gelled into the spikes he favored. Brown eyes gathered at the corners, likely amused by Micah’s careful study of his hair. He grinned, flashing dainty upper and lower fang, remanence of spending too much time in his leopard form. 

He’d hoped to bring Nathaniel with him this evening, but he was needed at home in case Anita arrived early for her lunch break. Zane wasn’t his first choice to introduce to Joyce and her girls, but he’d promised assistance in moving them in and Zane was available. He had been forced to request the younger man locate a shirt, normally Zane went shirtless or less, and it looked large on his thin frame. The jeans were his at least—they were a torn-up mess but they covered what needed covering. 

The door behind him opened and that meant Merle chose action to show his impatience to get started. Micah had preferred to leave his second, and bodyguard, back at the house. Merle, however, had been adamant as he was meeting with three relatively unknown shifters. Anita backed him had been the finale nail in that coffin. She would’ve come there herself, but September was a busy month for animators and she had a full night of zombie raisings ahead of her. 

“Shall we?” Micah asked Zane and earned himself another grin before he exited the vehicle. 

Zane followed his lead, better than Merle, and came around the front of the car. The two men, both far taller than his 5’3”, fell in step behind him. Though if things went bad Micah would be more concerned with keeping Zane safe. There was weakness to him, perhaps not permanent, but definitely evident to those that looked. Between Gabriel, Zane’s old leader, and Chimera, Micah’s personal nightmare, the wereleopards still had a lot of healing to do. 

Crickets came to life around them and brought him back on task. His shoulders hunched before rolling back and the polo shirt, that had belonged to Anita once, settled around his slight frame. His jeans, in much better shape than Zane’s, were his own. 

As they drew closer to the open front door music could be heard from inside the home, something upbeat and not entirely to his tastes, but Nathaniel might’ve liked it. The idea of entering the home, their territory, uninvited stopped him at the doorway. He could see into a wide-open space that combined the kitchen and dining room with several boxes stacked inside already; all of them neatly labeled. 

On the island in the kitchen sat a cellphone that was wedged in a styrofoam cup and managed to fill the space with music. He knocked, three rapped beats, against the doorframe—even though they’d likely heard them pull up—and moved so that he didn’t just fill the doorway to placate Merle. 

Who remained an unhappy shadow at his back. 

The sound of stairs being ascended told him there was a basement in the home. A brunette came into view from a hallway off the kitchen with a blonde just a few steps behind. Zane had remained in the doorway, self-preservation was also an issue with Gabriel’s wereleopards, so he was the first person they saw. He smiled at them, the same baring of fangs, and brunette’s gaze narrowed while the blonde’s stride faltered. 

Micah stepped forward, drawing their focus and the sunglasses he wore hid his less than human eyes from the pair. “Good evening.” 

Green eyes widened and the blonde stepped forward as if remembering her manners, “Hi,” she made a half wave gesture with her hand, “I’m Buffy and this is Faith,” the same hand moved to as if to present the brunette to them. 

Faith lifted a chin in greeting, not all concerned with manners. Her brown eyes remained narrowed, flicking back and forth between himself and Merle as if she’d already determined Zane wasn’t a threat. Micah smiled, his own teeth flat and unremarkable, and her mouth pursed in response, revealing dimples on either side. 

“I’m Zane,” his wereleopard introduced himself and took the last step over the threshold. 

“Merle,” his second offered; tone gruff as if he didn’t appreciate Faith’s step back when he entered. 

Her retreat brought Buffy forward, placing herself at Faith’s shoulder and making them a pair to face off against them. The movement told them better than words where their loyalties lay, and Micah turned his smile on Buffy. “And I’m Micah.” 

She glanced at Faith before returning his smile and offered, “Unload the pods now and save the awkward conversations for later?” 

The hopeful tilt to the question made Micah’s smile widen and he nodded. “Sounds like a plan.” 

Buffy nodded, moving between them to head back outside and took charge without hesitation. “The boxes are all labeled. Those were loaded last so we’re making our way through them first.” She paused in the doorway and looked back at them. “Zane, you can load the Dawn boxes in that bedroom.” She pointed to the door directly off from the dining room. “She turned to Merle and pointed a decisive finger at him, “You’ve got Joyce boxes. She’s the bedroom that’s located down the hallway by the kitchen. Mine and Faith’s stuff is in the second pod. We’ll do that one next.” 

Buffy turned to Micah and he found himself amused as she continued, “You’ll help Faith and I move the boxes into piles for Merle and Zane. Once they’re out of the way we can tackle furniture.” 

She was gone and Faith gave a short bark of laughter before following the blonde’s lead. “Welcome to Casa de Summers.” 

Micah found himself exchange silent glances with his pard members before Zane shrugged and moved to follow the two young women. Merle inclined his head, as if questioning if they were going to just take the teenager’s orders, but since Micah could find no fault in them, he mirrored Zane’s shrug and followed the others outside. 

Faith could be heard inside the container, “Yo, B! Come on. There are new people here and they do not need their ears abused with that shit you call music.” 

“You lost the bet.” Buffy’s counter argument was muffled as if bent over. 

“It’s not terrible.” Zane said as a way of peace-making. 

“See!” Buffy snapped, “Zane likes it.” 

“I wouldn’t say that,” he hedged. 

Faith cackled as she brought a set of boxes labeled Dawn out of the container and set them along the sidewalk. She grinned at Zane. It deepened her dimples and they shared look before Zane retrieved the boxes and headed back into the house. 

Micah followed Faith into the container and found Buffy sorting the boxes inside so Dawn’s were along one wall and Joyce’s the other. He selected the first set of Joyce’s boxes while Merle looking over the girls once last time before he accepted the boxes and headed inside himself. The system Buffy had set up moved swiftly and he and Faith had the boxes sorted on the lawn within ten minutes and Merle and Zane were making short work of their piles. 

The first bit of furniture was a large dresser and Faith moved forward to tug out one top drawer and then then the other. “Now you have hand holds and I’ll take these to Joyce’s room.” 

Buffy watched her go with narrowed eyes before looking to Micah. “I’m being punished for not changing the music, aren’t I?”

“Punished?” Micah made it a question even as he took up one side of the dresser. 

“She left us with the heavy lifting.”

“It’s not that heavy,” and to prove his point he lifted his end easily. Buffy hurried to follow his lead. “I’ll go backwards,” and he dragged her from the container and towards the house. 

“Think I could lift this on my own?” 

The curiosity in her tone made him smile even as he shook his head. “The balance is wrong. You’d likely drop it.” 

“Ah,” she grinned, “So physics affects even us.” 

Micah felt the steps leading up to the porch at his ankles and he slowed and lifted to make sure the dresser was clear of his knees before walking up them sideways. Buffy braced the back end so that the weight didn’t shift before following his example to tackle the stairs. They made it inside and past the kitchen before Buffy asked, tone anything but conversational, “So who’s the biggest and baddest shifter group?”

His brows rose over the rim of his sunglasses even as he deadpanned, “Biggest and baddest?” 

Her shoulders tensed and she might’ve shrugged if she hadn’t been holding the other end of the dresser as they made their way down the hallway. “You know what I mean,” she searched his face a moment before sighing, “Maybe you don’t.” 

They made it into the room and Buffy tilted her chin towards the only section of wall that didn’t have a window. They lowered the dresser in unison and Faith stepped forward to the drawers back into place. 

“Just ask him.” Faith stated and glanced at Micah, “He’s as petite as you. Something tells me he’ll get it.” 

Micah arched a brow at the teenager, since she was maybe only few inches taller than them, but she was already leaving the room. Buffy stepped around her side of the dresser and met him in front of it. “I need to be strong for Dawn. Who would be willing to help me with that?” 

“Ah,” Micah took off his sunglasses and other than a tightening around her eyes she didn’t react to the more yellow than green color, “That would be the wererats.” 

“Rats?” That got more of reaction than his eyes. “Really?” He nodded and Buffy blew out a breath. “Okay. No more books and covers for this girl,” Micah frowned, and Buffy hastily tacked on, “As in the judging of.”

It took him a moment to decipher but he agreed with the sentiment. “That’s usually a best practice.” 

“They’re part of the Coalition?”

“They are.”

Buffy leaned against the dresser, teeth sinking into the side of her mouth as if working through a problem or looking for courage. Her scent gave him nothing since she’d been anxious and uneasy since they’d arrived. “Do you think you could set up a meeting with them and me?” 

He inclined his head considering how helpful it would be if the wererats were willing to take on training other shifters to be stronger fighters. Testing the waters with Buffy wasn’t the worst way to broach the subject and he found himself smiling as he asked, “So you can ask them to teach you how to be strong?” 

Her nostrils flared and something told him Buffy was trying to figure out him out even as she replied with a simple, “Yep.” 

He slipped the sunglasses back on, sharping his vision with the prescription shades and studied Buffy. She was tan, though not as tan as himself, and the clothing she wore was more fashion forward than some. Linen stripped shorts and the top looked cashmere, but beneath the superficial he saw toned arms and a set to her shoulders, a lift to her chin that didn’t make him think weak. 

She didn’t wilt under his scrutiny, but he felt the first stirrings of her power as if her cat sensed the sudden danger his presented. “I think you’re stronger than you realize.” 

She blinked, her mouth falling open slightly before it slipped into a smile that was shy and a little pleased. “Then I want them to teach me how to use it.” 

“They could do that,” Micah reached out, his hand tracing along the edge of her power and pushed his own into hers. She made a small sound, not like it hurt, and stepped back from him with eyes wide. “And I could teach you as well.” 

“Faith’s been working with me,” one shoulder lifted dislodging the strap to her top, “I’m usually pretty good at shoving it down but nerves make it worse.” 

“Strong emotions tend to have that affect.” 

“I got that memo,” she rolled her eyes, “I’m not looking forward to Dawn when puberty rears its ugly head.” 

The idea of dealing with a beast along with hormone shifts made Micah offer, “I can help with Dawn too,” but he was a little uncertain as to how. 

Buffy smirked, as if sensing his unease, but accepted his offer. “That would be swell. Though we’ve got mom. She made it through mine and I was hell of a lot cattier than any shifter.” 

“Is that a fact?” Micah found himself returning her smile. 

“Oh yeah.” Buffy turned, leading him from the room as she explained. “I ruled my high school with an iron fist.” 

“That I can believe.” Micah admitted, thinking of how she’d given orders earlier as if expecting them to be followed. 

She paused in the hallway. “You can let the wererats know I’m not a complete novice. I’m a black belt in Aikido.” 

“Aikido?” Micah questioned. 

“My dad panicked when I grew breasts,” she grinned as if recalling some fond memory, “and I think he picked the first martial arts he could find in the phonebook,” her smile turned softer, sadder and her scent sharpened with her grief even as she continued, “He signed me up for so many different self-defense courses that I lost count. I kept agreeing to go long after I lost interest but he always found the time to drive me and we _always_ stopped for ice cream on the way home,” she shook her head, “even when I turned sixteen and could very much drive myself. He drove. It was our time.” 

Micah reached out, straightening the strap to her top and the dropped a hand on her bare shoulder. The physical contact brought her power forward, sparking along his skin and stirring his leopard, but Micah offered her comfort rather than challenge. Buffy searched his face before she dropped a hand over top of his and gave it a gentle squeeze. Her voice wavered only a little when she said, “He was a good dad. Not always the best husband, but a good dad.” 

Faith came up behind Buffy, her arms wrapping around the blonde’s waist and she buried her face in the back of her neck. The werelions power prickled along his skin, it didn’t hurt but made him more aware of her presence as Buffy grieved the loss of her father and her knees gave out. Faith held her up and Micah steadied them both with his hand on Buffy’s shoulder. 

Buffy’s breath was coming in shuddering gasps, but she didn’t sob as if she was afraid to let go that much. Her scent made Micah tighten his hold on her shoulder and she hiccupped. Faith pulled her head back enough so that should run her tongue against Buffy’s other bare shoulder. 

The blonde gave a choking laugh. “It always comes down to licking.” 

Faith dropped her chin over that same shoulder as Buffy got her feet back under her. Brown eyes stared at Micah, daring him to let them down. “Cats lick, B.” 

Something slid in Buffy’s gaze, a challenge, and she turned her head to lick the side of Faith’s face. The same quick burst of laughter escaped the brunette and she pulled back, letting go of the blonde in one quick movement that had her swaying and Micah glad he still had a hand on her shoulder. 

Buffy shook her head and offered him a watered-down version of her previous smile. “I guess the awkward conversations couldn’t wait,” her shoulders dropped, “Sorry—” 

“Why don’t you go help Zane and Merle unload the furniture?” Faith interrupted. Buffy exhaled before nodding and heading back towards the kitchen. “And, B?” she looked back at them, “You got this.” 

“I got this.” Buffy agreed, but more to herself than either of them and turned away. 

Micah watched her shoulders straighten, spine lengthening as she rebuilt her walls and any trace of otherworldly energy was gone by the time she walked out of sight. His brows rose before he slid his gaze to Faith and found her studying him much the way he was Buffy. There was a set to her jaw that made him think she found him lacking in some way—or perhaps she found the entire _world_ lacking. 

“You better do right by them.” Faith’s casual tone was belied by her scent. 

Micah inclined his head but hesitated in offer soothing platitudes. Faith’s hip was cocked, arms tucked tight under her breasts. He could see the markings of a tattoo on the inside of her right forearm but couldn’t make out the image. Jean shorts, that looked about as sturdy as Zane’s jeans, showcased pale legs and the muscle t-shirt she wore bared toned arms. It was definite contrast to Buffy’s attire, and it made him wonder how exactly they’d become partners against the world. 

Though now wasn’t the time for those types of questions and instead Micah assured her, “I intend to do right by all of you.” 

Her nostrils flared and her mouth formed a thin line before her chin dropped in acknowledgment. “B and Dawn need a group to run with. They’re still learning the ins and outs of being furry. Joseph made it clear they wouldn’t be welcomed in his pride,” her tone was neutral but something told Micah Faith didn’t like the Rex of the St. Louis separating her from the girls, “In few months I think Buffy will have control enough for the both of them.” 

He sighed, having anticipated as much but still wasn’t entirely certain of another group that could or would welcome two cheetahs. It was possible Christine could offer some assistance, but doubtful as the weretiger preferred her solitude and putting her in charge of a thirteen-year-old might mean Dawn never made it to fourteen. 

Which left the leopards as the only other cat-based lycanthropy left that could assist them—he didn’t trust them with the wolves and the rats tended to be more territorial than most.

He didn’t think Anita would object but he also didn’t want to make a promise he’d have to later break which left Micah only one option. “I’ll have to discuss it with Anita, but I don’t see why we couldn’t allow them to run with the leopards the next full moon and for as many moons as it takes before they’re settled.” Micah leaned back, hands slipping into the back pockets as he studied Faith’s face before asking, “Would Buffy and Dawn want to run with lions again? Joyce made it seem like their time with your old pride wasn’t easy.” 

“Eric’s a piece of work,” Faith agreed with a scoff. “He’s in the pocket of the Master of the City.” Brown eyes narrowed before she asked, “There any vamps here that feed on fear?” 

His eyes narrowed, brows tugging downward with that question. “I don’t believe so.” Micah found himself tacking on, “Though I haven’t met every vampire in the city,” something in Faith’s scent forced him to be honest. 

She glanced over as Zane and Buffy carried an empty bookshelf into Dawn’s room. Merle brought up the rear with a beanbag that looked large enough to swallow the older leopard. Her gaze turned back to him and she searched his face a moment before stating, “The Master of LA’s animal to call was lions and he _liked_ to call on us.” 

Micah saw goosebumps raise on her arms and she dropped them from around her waist and flexed her hands into fists. The tattoo on her forearm was of a lioness’ face, done in black and gray and with enough details that he could see battle scars worked into the shading that made up the fur. The face was serene but something about it made him think of flesh rendered from bone. 

“The Master of St. Louis’ animal to call is the wolf,” Micah’s words turned Faith’s attention back to him and he continued, “From what I’ve seen he treats them well.” 

“Boston’s Master was kinda cool,” Faith grinned, her teeth as blunt and human as his own.

“You lived in Boston?” 

“Born and raised on Dunkies,” a hint of her accent came through with that before she groused, “B likes Starbucks.” 

“Starbucks for hot and Dunkins for iced,” Buffy countered but made her way out the door to get more furniture. Micah hear Zane start to question her if there really was a difference between the two and he could’ve sworn he actually _heard_ Merle roll his eyes. 

Micah refocused them both. “What made you move to Los Angeles?” 

“Some lions from Chicago moved in and took over my pride back in Boston,” she arched a brow, “So I thought screw that and left. Found my way to Los Angeles.” 

“And now you’ve found your way to St. Louis.” 

Micah smiled and Faith returned it. “Looks like.” 

“She can’t get enough of me,” Buffy offered as she and Merle made their way past them with a large mirror covered with a blanket. “We’re almost done with the first pod if you want to assist.”

“Why not?” Faith shrugged and head towards the open front door. 

Micah followed her and she led them past Zane as he carried a round table inside. Faith paused to advise him, “Dawn’s room.” 

He dipped the pale blue metal tabletop, covered in paint and various scuff marks, by way of greeting and said, “I figured.” 

Faith led them into the container and looked to the large mattress along the wall. There were brackets behind it and what looked like a frame wrapped in plastic. “Joyce offered B her king since Dawn and I usually end up in it and she’s been sleeping solo of late. So we’ll be taking this one downstairs.” 

She grabbed the plastic wrapped mattress and tugged it away from the side of the container. Micah stepped around her and used a hand to keep it upright as he got to the other side. Faith grabbed handfuls of the plastic to test its strength as she explained, “It’s that memory foam stuff. Like sleeping on a damn cloud.” 

“Is that comfortable?” Micah questioned; tone doubtful since he preferred something firmer.

“It is.” Faith declared and he saw her glance at Buffy as she entered the container before stating, “But I’m not sure how her parents did the nasty on it. Too much give, ya know?” 

Buffy made a strangled sound. “Would you _stop_ bringing up my parents’ sex life? I do not need the mental image of them groin-y on my mom’s nice gesture.” 

“Grab the bed frame and meet us downstairs.” Faith tugged her end of the mattress up and Micah assisted as they took it into the house. 

He had to use two hands, one low and one high, to keep it from wobbling as they walked. The consistency of the foam made the mattress harder to maneuver when compared to the dresser. Faith turned around to make her way down the stairs and Micah had to brace the top of the mattress to keep it from ramming her. It took some maneuvering and a few colorful phrases from Faith before they were safely in the basement. 

Faith dragged him forward down a short hallway that had an open archway leading into what Micah assumed would be the living room and two doors. The one on his right was closed but the one directly in front of them lay open. Faith brought them into that room and like the rest of the house the walls were a muted gray with white trim. They propped the mattress against the one wall with no windows or doors to obscure. 

“Behind you.” 

Micah turned as Buffy and Merle carried in the disassembled frame for the bed and Buffy’s warning moved him closer to Faith so they could walk the long sides into the room. Zane brought up the rear with the slots for the bed and a toolbox. 

“Merle offered to put it together.” Buffy beamed at up at him. 

“It’s not that hard. I’m sure you could handle it.” Merle returned her smile and Micah wondered if Buffy was wearing down his second’s gruff exterior through sheer force of will. 

“Dawn could,” Faith offered. 

“Fair,” Buffy agreed and then explained, “She’s obsessed with all things DIY at the moment,” a shrug lifted one shoulder and the strap of her shirt slipped again.

“This is a nice home,” Zane stated as he offered the toolbox to Merle. 

Buffy nodded. “Mom did good.” 

“That she did,” Micah agreed, “Shall we continue unloading and leave Merle to build the bed?” 

“I might need a hand,” Merle requested, “Helping to keep things steady as a I put ‘em together.” 

“I can,” Zane agreed, but thought to ask Buffy, “Where do want it once it’s built?” 

She glanced around the room, considering before she decided, “Under the window should be fine for now.”

“Let’s motorvate,” Faith caught Buffy around her shoulders and pulled her from the room. It was as Micah led them up the stairs he heard Faith whisper, “Nice ass.” 

“He can hear you,” Buffy’s whisper was harsher and filled with embarrassment; which likely meant she’d been the one caught looking. 

A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth but he chose to ignore them and continue outside to the container. It was mostly empty at this point, but there were still a few pieces of furniture and a smaller mattress and box spring set wrapped in plastic. Micah grabbed the mattress and Buffy, who carefully avoided looking at him, moved to take the other side. Faith stacked two nightstands on top of each other and hoisted them up before heading back in. 

“This is Dawn’s bed,” Buffy offered.

Micah lifted his end and was pleased that this mattress was sturdier, holding its shape as they brought it into house to be propped against a wall in Dawn’s room. The box spring was next and just as easy. Faith followed them in with the frame before depositing it on floor in the center of the room. They made short work of the rest of the container and on their last trip Faith stopped short at the kitchen island. 

She leaned over the cellphone playing music to tap the screen and hit pause. Her gaze slid up, brown eyes gathering at the corners before she stated, “I’m thirsty. Water break?” 

Buffy moved around her to the fridge and Micah saw some soda and water bottles on one shelf but little else. She grabbed five waters and dropped off three with him and Faith before heading downstairs to provide the other two to Zane and Merle. 

“Our little hostess.” Faith snarked before opening her water. 

He grabbed one of the remaining bottles and took a sip, watching Faith as she downed half of hers with the first gulp. She leaned against the counter, body relaxing as she let her elbows take her weight. Micah followed her lead and rested his hip against the island before checking his watch. Barely an hour had passed since their arrival and Micah didn’t foresee the next container taking much longer. 

Buffy bounded up the stairs and around the corner in a burst of speed that dried Micah’s throat. The stairs she’d taken more than one at a time which wasn’t disconcerting. However, he’d blinked, and she’d gone from being in the hallway near the kitchen to in front of them. He’s mind hadn’t been clouded. She was simply that fast. 

Glad for his sunglasses, as his eyes had become comically wide, he took another sip of water. Micah didn’t miss the look Faith gave him out of the corner of her eye. Nor her smirk. 

“Merle and Zane are almost done and they’ll set up Dawn’s bed next.” Buffy retrieved the remaining water and drank most of in a similar fashion to Faith. Completely unaware of the rapid tempo of his pulse—first he’d teach her to be more aware of her other senses. 

The cellphone rang, the styrofoam cup reverberating through the house, and Faith snagged it before tossing it to Buffy. She caught it one handed, glancing at the screen a moment before swiping to accept the call. “Hey, Dawnie.” 

“Hey,” the voice sounded young and tinny through the small speaker, “We’re here and I found a pizza place with good reviews. Mom placed an order but it’ll be 45 minutes. So we’re gonna hit a grocery store while we wait. Mom wants to know of any requests.” 

“Cookie dough fudge mint chip ice cream,” Buffy replied readily and glanced at Faith. 

“D’uh,” was heard from the phone, “We know your preference for ridiculously complicated ice cream flavors.” 

“Popcorn?” was Faith’s request. 

“Popcorn,” Buffy reiterated before grinning, “Oh! And prosciutto!” Faith gave her a look and she stuck her tongue out at her before refocusing on her side of the conversation. “We might have the unloading done by the time you get here.”

“Fine by me,” was Dawn’s happy retort, “If you think of anything else text me.” 

“See you soon,” Buffy said as way of goodbye and hung up. She glanced first at Faith and then looked to Micah. “Think we can finish before they get here? The dining table and chairs are in the second pod.” 

“I think we have a shot.” Micah agreed. 

“I do love a challenge,” Faith finished her water and headed towards the door. 

Buffy snagged a set of keys from the counter and tucked her phone into the pocket of her shorts. Micah motioned her to proceed him but hesitated to follow when he heard as Merle and Zane making their way up the stairs. 

“Joyce and Dawn will be here in a little over an hour.” He advised Merle, who he knew would be more concerned with that bit of information than Zane. 

“Alright,” Merle nodded to the bedroom behind them, “We’ll set up the frame for Dawn’s bed and then help with the unloading,” he ran a hand over his trimmed beard before asking, “Think we’ll be ordered about again?” 

“Definitely.” Zane nodded. 

Micah smiled at him and agreed, “She did say she ruled her high school with an iron fist.” 

Zane smile spread wider. “I beat she was a cheerleader.” 

Shaking his head Micah motioned them towards Dawn’s room. “Finish with that and then come assist.” 

The second container took less time than anticipated and while Buffy did take charge once more she also volunteered to help Merle set up the washer and dryer they’d brought with them from Los Angeles. 

More surprisingly, Merle had welcomed the help. 

Sheer force of will. 

+

Pizza boxes littered the kitchen island and Micah found himself searching them for his next slice. His mouth turned in at the corners as his first option turned out to be Dawn’s choice of anchovies and red onions. He didn’t mind the little fish in his salad dressing but embracing them whole on a pizza wasn’t in him. The next two boxes were better options but not quite what he wanted.

“Micah?” Buffy’s calling of his name lifted his head and she spared him a flirtatious smile, “Bring me back a slice of cheese?” 

“What do we say?” He watched Joyce arch a brow at her oldest. 

Buffy’s eyes rolled but she tacked on a, “Please?” for good measure. 

“I saw that.” 

“You did not!” Buffy turned back to the table. 

“She did so!” Dawn countered around a bite of her pizza. 

“Ew,” Buffy snarked, “Don’t speak to me around half masticated fish.” 

“Masticated?” Faith somehow filled that one word with a world of subtext. 

“Chewed, Faith.” 

Zane was laughing into his meat lovers and Merle was watching the girls with thinly veiled amusement. Micah shook his head and continued his hunt for the perfect slice. Three more boxes were searched before he settled on pepperoni and bacon, Faith’s preference, and retrieved a slice of cheese for Buffy. Pizza accoutrements—Dawn’s word, not his own—lined the center of the table and he’d help himself to some banana peppers once he was seated. 

The table sat eight comfortably and they’d placed it in the center of the open space beside the kitchen. The chairs were four matching pairs; that did and didn’t go with each other. Joyce had claimed the head of the table, not that Micah minded, and Buffy had settled on her left. 

He’d taken the seat to her right with Merle and Zane filling the empty spots on his side of the table. Merle had, of course, chosen the chair closest to the door, and Dawn and Faith were across from them. Dawn was tucked safely between the two teenager shifters and alternately teased by both. He noticed more than one glance at the empty chair from the Summers’ women. 

Hank Summers was missed.

Micah dropped off Buffy’s slice and she beamed up at him and the, “Thank you,” was heartfelt—even with the side-eye towards Joyce. 

Who ignored the look and smiled at Micah as he reclaimed his seat. “Yes, thank you for helping with getting us moved in,” her head lifted so that Merle and Zane knew they were included in her words, “I think you all saved us several hours of work.” 

Buffy leaned forward, past Dawn to look at Faith. “ _They_ get thanked.” 

Faith arched a brow and nodded, “We’re old news.” 

“Well they probably did the lion’s share of the work.” Dawn offered and took another bite of pizza. 

“Lion’s share,” Faith’s mouth turned down at the corners, “Really?” 

Micah helped himself to the jar of banana peppers and resisted the urge to smile at Dawn’s smirk of triumph. Mustn’t encourage her. Teasing aside, Dawn Summers, was completely at ease now that she was sandwiched between Buffy and Faith. She’d given the leopards a wide berth at first, cautious and watchful, before following the examples the older girls’ set. Zane kept up a steady conversation with Faith on St. Louis nightlife while Buffy alternated between filling Joyce in on their progress and teasing her younger sister’s choice in food for the duration of the meal.

Joyce leaned back in her chair, watching them with a pleased smile and her scent, a subtle floral, had lost the acidic note of fear. There’d been an air of uncertainty around her when she’d first arrived at the house that hadn’t settled until well into the meal. She’d watched and listened, tossing a comment here and there, but mostly she studied the girls, her girls, as if assuring herself she’d made the right call by coming to him. 

Micah ate some of his pizza before addressing something that had nagged him since Joyce’s visit. “Faith,” the brunette looked up from her pizza and Zane leaned back in his chair, “How did you hear of the Coalition?” 

A tongue ran across the front of her teeth before she nodded, “One of the wolves I used to hang with moved to St. Louis awhile back. She goes to Wash U.” 

“Who?” Zane questioned, his tone cautious as he explained, “I might know her.” 

“Veruca,” Faith paused, frowned, “I don’t know her last name.” 

Zane shook his head and admitted, “I don’t know a Veruca.” 

There was a note of relief in that admission and Merle dropped a hand on the younger leopard’s shoulder. They knew of the relationship between the werewolves and wereleopards before Anita’s influence. Gabriel had made sure none of his leopards were strong enough—at least mentally—to refuse his orders. 

Under his rule they’d been used to punish the wolves that stepped out of line and from the few stories shared those punishments would’ve been something Chimera enjoyed. Members of Micah’s old pard had been used in a similar manner—only he and Merle had refused to harm others. 

One of the many reasons to be grateful to Anita since she’d killed them both. 

“I think her band name’s Shy now,” Faith shook her head, forcing herself back on topic, “Anyways. Since St. Louis is sorta known for the supernatural I contacted her to see if she knew of any werecheetahs. She told me about you instead.” 

“St. Louis is known for the supernatural?” Joyce made it a question, sitting forward as the topic of conversation grabbed her attention.

“From what I can tell,” Merle agreed and shook his head, “More shifters here than most major cities.” 

“And St. Louis is big on vampire tourism,” Zane offered, “That’s mostly Jean-Claude’s doing.” 

The increase in Dawn’s heartbeat drew Micah’s attention and the shuddering of her next breath drew his brows together. Buffy dropped an arm across her shoulder and Faith glanced her at before drawing Joyce’s focus to her, “Pass the chili flakes?” 

The girls still seemed to be protecting the only human among them from the truth. 

“Jean-Claude is the Master of the City?” Joyce made it a question but there was a certainty in her tone that told Micah she knew this to be a fact as she retrieved the requested accoutrement and passed it down the line to Faith. 

Zane nodded anyway, “I work for him,” brown eyes narrowed, “Technically. He owns the Circus of the Damned.”

“The what now?” Buffy countered as Dawn leaned into her. 

He grinned, flashing fangs and Joyce stiffened, but Zane pushed on. “I’ll get you tickets. You have to see it to believe it.” 

“Is it like the Night Circus?” Dawn frowned at the blank looks from everyone and huffed, “By Erin Morgenstern?” 

“I can’t say I’m familiar.” Micah asked, “Would you recommend it?” 

“Definitely,” Dawn pointed her half-eaten slice of pizza at him. “I have it if you want to borrow it, but you have to return it,” narrowed blue eyes slid upwards towards Buffy, “unlike some people.” 

Buffy pushed forward with her shoulder, dislodging Dawn before snapping, “Excuse me? Who borrows who’s clothes without asking and usually staining?” Buffy tugged on the shoulder of the t-shirt Dawn wore which was a size or two too big for her, “You’re wearing one of my shirts _now_!” 

“You have all the shirts!” Dawn countered as if that explained anything.

“The horrors of being an older sister.” Joyce smiled at Buffy, “And speaking of Wash U—”

“No one was speaking of Wash U.” Buffy interrupted and hastened to add. “It was mentioned in a conversation about other things. Other topics.” 

“I want you back in college, young lady.” 

“Community college,” Joyce opened her mouth to argue but Buffy held up a hand, “I got incompletes for most of my courses at UCLA. I want to ease into it this time. Maybe only a course or two. The fall semester starts at the end of this month so I’m not sure if I’ll make the cutoff but at the very least I can find a college I like before the summer semester.” 

“Okay,” Joyce agreed and smiled at Buffy’s raised brows, “You put some thought into it and you’re an adult. But I do want you to at least do a tour of Washington University.” 

“Deal,” Buffy agreed before settling her focus on Micah, “Mom mentioned you might be able to assist with gainful employment?” 

“What she said.” Faith agreed as she leaned forward to snag the uneaten crust from Buffy’s plate.

“Are you both outed shifters?” Micah made it a question but could hazard a guess at the answer. 

“Not by choice,” Buffy smiled tightly at them. 

“How’s that?” Zane questioned between bites. 

“News coverage of the attack and my miraculous recovery.” Buffy frowned down at her now empty plate. 

Joyce sighed and nodded. “If only there’d been some way to keep you girls out of the media.” 

“I’m out,” Faith shrugged, “Mostly ‘cause I don’t care.” 

“Alright,” Micah hedged away from that particular topic and asked, “Job experience?” 

“I was a bouncer at the club the pride owned,” Faith cocked her head, considering. “I’m good at curbing a normals urge to throw a punch.” 

Micah nodded and then looked to Buffy, who was still frowning, “I’ve waitressed before.” 

“You were captain of the cheerleading squad,” Dawn offered. 

Micah caught Zane’s triumphant grin, he should’ve put money on that guess, as Buffy smiled, glancing down at her little sister before she looked up at him. “I don’t think that’s much of a qualification.” 

“Don’t sell yourself short,” Joyce countered, “You ran the squad, managed the training schedule, the fundraisers.” She leaned forward and captured one of Buffy’s hands. “You put a lot of effort into those girls and it showed.” 

“I’ll put it on my resume.” Buffy laughed. 

“We need a resume?” Faith balked. “What do I put? High School dropout? Good with drunks?” 

“You’ll be getting your GED.” Joyce informed Faith in the same tone she’d used on Buffy. 

Faith bristled before a smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. “You momming me again, Joyce?” 

“Every chance you’ll give me.” 

Her smile widened, flashing dimples, before she cautioned the Micah and the rest. “You hang around long enough and she’ll do the same to you,” her head inclined at Merle, “Maybe not you.” 

“You’re never too old to be mothered.” Joyce countered before she stood and asked, “Now how about we clear this table and get down to business?” 

A smile quirked the corner of his mouth and Micah exchanged a glance with Merle—Buffy didn’t just take after her mother physically. 

\+ 

Only three pizza boxes, filled with what was left of the pizza, remained on the kitchen island. One of them contained the rest of Dawn’s pizza—no need to cross containment. The other boxes they’d broken down for the trash. Dawn had spent a substantial amount of time explaining to Micah that they couldn’t recycle them due to the grease. 

She’d tore off a few clean sections of cardboard for “projections” and Micah learned that the tools in they’d put in the garage had belonged to Joyce but had been commandeered by Dawn. The cardboard had been tucked behind the workbench for safekeeping. 

“What you’re next project?” Micah asked as he followed Dawn back into the house. 

She turned, blue eyes studying him, attempting to determine his sincerity before she smiled. “I want a reading nook in my room, but first a new headboard.”

“What kind of reading nook?” 

The hallway leading to the kitchen was filled with the scent of hot chocolate. Dawn paused to sniff and her smiled widened before she explained. “I want bookshelves on either side of one of the windows in my room with a bench beneath the window that connects them. But the bench _has_ to be wide enough to curl up on.”

“What’s a reading nook without the ability to curl up with a good book?”

“Exactly!” Dawn started moving down the hall towards the kitchen. 

“Do you do woodwork?”

“Not yet,” there was enough determination in her tone that he smiled before Dawn questioned, “Do you like your hot chocolate boring or fun?” 

A brow quirked, but Micah was cautious after the anchovies. “Depends on what you mean by fun.” 

“Cayenne and cinnamon.” Dawn rounded the kitchen and continued, “It makes it warm on the back of your tongue.” 

“I’d try that,” Micah agreed because that didn’t sound nearly as unappetizing as her choice in pizza toppings. 

“Mom!” Dawn called stepping up to the island. “I’ve got another convert.” 

“Another?” Micah questioned. 

Faith placed a mug of light brown frothiness in front of him and Micah caught the faintest hint of the mentioned spices. There were shavings of chocolate on top and after the first surprised sip he asked, “This isn’t Swiss Miss?” 

Dawn beamed, a bit of froth caught along the edge of her upper lip. “Nope. Mom doesn’t do store bought. She makes the boring stuff for Buffy and the good stuff for me and Faith.” 

“It’s really good, Joyce.” Zane agreed, holding his mug with both hands near his face before glancing at Dawn and adding, “Even the boring stuff.” 

Merle was enjoying his mug with an amused smile and shake of his head. Micah took another sip and Dawn was right; the spices added just the right edge of warmth to the hot chocolate. “How long were we in the garage?” 

“Not that long,” Joyce turned from the counter with her own mug and admitted, “I had the mixes prepped. All that was left was heating up the milk and the melting some dark chocolate. We forgot the cinnamon sticks.”

“Still good,” Dawn stated before taking another sip, “and so much better than Swiss Miss.” 

“Nothing wrong with Swiss Miss,” Faith grumbled and Micah was inclined to agree, but Faith turned to snark at Buffy instead, “You’ve lived a sheltered life, B.” 

“Because my mom makes homemade hot chocolate?” Buffy scoffed, “Stop making me feel like I should apologize for having a good childhood.” 

“I had a good childhood,” Merle offered. “My mom made homemade pies.” 

“That sounds lovely,” Joyce said. 

“Same,” Micah agreed before tacking on, “Except for the pies.” 

Zane and Faith exchanged glances and Buffy leaned forward over the island to lock eyes with Zane. “I’ll share my mom with you.” 

“She’s a good mom.” Dawn nodded, enjoying her hot chocolate and, apparently, good childhood.

“For a shifter mom she’s damn near perfect.” Faith took another sip of her hot chocolate. “This really is good, Joyce.” 

Zane nodded, “Agreed,” and something told Micah that his leopard was speaking in regards to both of Faith’s points. 

Joyce came around the island and dropped a few more mini marshmallows in Zane’s mug. He smiled at her and Micah realized they were nearly the same height. Joyce was only an inch or two shorter than Zane’s six feet and Micah found himself studying first her and then Dawn, who was already nearly as tall as Buffy. 

His gaze slid to the blonde, the honey color closer in shade to Joyce’s than Dawn’s, but her height made him wonder if Hank had been on the shorter side. He and his sister, Beth, took after their father in looks and height—he wasn’t much taller than Micah—and he’d also placed him in martial arts when he was younger. 

Buffy leaned into Faith and mock whispered, “Someone just got adopted.” 

“Devil children,” Joyce called them with no real sting in her voice.

Curious Micah found himself asking Buffy, “Where do you get your height?” 

“He’s calling you short.” Dawn laughed. 

A brow rose and he looked over at the younger girl. “Are you calling me short?”

He was mildly amused since he and Buffy were the same height, and Dawn looked at him wide-eyed before frowning. “You seem bigger.” 

“I’ll give you bigger,” there was a threat in Buffy’s tone and Dawn smirked in triumph at her before Buffy offered, “I take after Aunt Lolly. She’s mom’s younger and much shorter sister.” 

“Lolly?” Zane made the name a question.

“I’m not the only odd named one in the family.” 

“Buffy isn’t an odd name,” Merle countered, “I knew one or two in the 70s.” 

“If you mean Buffy Sainte-Marie then you’ll have many a thing to discuss with my mom.” Buffy lifted her mug to Joyce and then took a sip.

“Wait,” Dawn frowned, “Is that why my middle name is Marie?”

“Well she certainly couldn’t have used Sainte for you?” Buffy countered. 

The conversation devolved from there with Zane and Faith easing away from the island while Buffy teased Dawn and Joyce did her best to referee. She managed to drag Merle into the fray occasionally with questions about a musician they both enjoyed, and his second seemed at ease in the center of a bickering teenage storm. 

Faith lifted her mug to him as he settled himself beside her against the counter. “They’ll calm down in a minute. Dawn has a way of hitting B’s bitch switch.” 

“Most younger siblings have that affect.” Micah agreed with a smile, thinking of his sister. He realized then Faith and Buffy were only a year older than Beth and felt a pang of remorse. He’d missed her high school graduation and so many milestones attempting to keep his family safe from Chimera.

He took another sip of the hot chocolate. It was starting to cool but the spices still managed to warm his throat. He cleared it before asking Faith, “When are you meeting with Joseph?” 

“A few days,” Faith inclined her head, “He gonna do a meet and greet with him and the rest of the pride at his place.”

“Will you take Buffy?” Zane questioned from his placed beside her. 

She huffed, “She’s not welcome.” 

“The whole anti-cross-species fraternization is stupid,” Buffy said; butting into their conversation and tucking herself in between Micah and Faith. 

Zane leaned around Faith to tip his mug to Buffy. She smiled and clinked hers against his before they both took a sip. Micah narrowed in on Buffy’s comment and questioned, “Why do you find it stupid?” 

“We’re all shifters. We all hiss, growl and howl at the full moon,” a shoulder lifted and fell, “The type of furry you become shouldn’t mean you can’t hang,” green eyes looked at Micah before she finished, “Stupid.” 

“Or you’re jealous,” Faith offered, “Cause of the lack of cheetahs.” 

“There’s also that.” 

Micah glanced over at Merle and Joyce in deep conversation about which decade was best for music. Dawn had tucked herself in against her mother’s side, head resting against her arm as she drank hot chocolate and watched everyone’s interactions. 

“I’ll share the cool members of the pride with you.” Faith added, “There’s gotta be a few.” 

“Not sure on the cool, but I know there’s not that many of them.” Zane said. 

A brow rose and Faith inclined her head towards Zane, “The LA pride wasn’t that big either. My pride back in Boston was 30 strong,” she ducked her head and shook it, “Would’ve been more if the guys could’ve calmed their impulse to fight’n’die.”

“Lions are rough,” Buffy said with certainty.

“That we are.” Faith agreed and dropped an arm around Buffy’s shoulders. “I know a cheetah or two that shouldn’t be messed with.” 

“Dawn,” Buffy explained to Micah and Zane, “She’s a biter.”

“We have a few of those,” there was an edge to Zane’s tone that Micah couldn’t decipher.

Faith knocked her shoulder into him and the arm around Buffy’s shoulder dragged her with the movement. She cupped a hand beneath her mug to steady it while Faith asked, “How many leopards?” 

“Thirteen,” Micah replied for him and nodded, “My mate is human,” he found his head inclining before he tacked on, “Mostly.” 

“Anita Blake, right?” Faith questioned and off Micah and Zane’s nods. “Isn’t she tied to the wolves?”

“She is,” Zane said and Micah added, “How did you know that?” 

“Veruca mentioned her.” Faith grinned. “She’s torn between grudging respect and active dislike for their human lupa.”

“How can she be both?” Buffy asked no one in particular.

“That’s a long story,” Micah replied. 

“We need her and the wolves want her.” Zane gave his own succinct version. 

“Perhaps not that long.” 

“She was the Ulfric’s lady love,” Faith explained to Buffy, “Though apparently now he’s banging his way through the pack.” 

Her brows tugged together and Micah watched Buffy consider that tidbit. Her mouth opened, closed and then she gave up commenting and instead drank her hot chocolate. Micah looked to Faith and her scent told him she didn’t care either way for the wolves. “You’re well informed.”

“Veruca was one of the banged,” was Faith’s way of explanation.

“Shifters gossip like biddies.” Merle offered from other side of the island.

Joyce was frowning, likely because she hadn’t heard their conversation, but Dawn’s blue eyes were wide as saucers. She looked uneasy with the topic and Joyce glanced down at her before she stated, “I know I said we should talk tonight, but how about we set up the living room and watch a movie instead?” 

Some of the unease melted from Dawn’s face and she looked up at her mom. “Can we make popcorn?” 

Joyce nodded and then looked at Micah. “You’re welcome to stay.” 

His watch said it was already well into Anita’s lunch break and she’d be heading back to work before he’d make it home. Nathaniel would soon be sleeping off feeding the _arduer_ which meant he had time before anyone would miss him. Micah looked to Zane, who shrugged, and Merle, who inclined his head in agreement, before he offered Joyce, “Sounds like a plan.” 

“I vote horror movie,” Faith stated before pushing away from the counter. 

“Slasher or supernatural?” Buffy questioned. 

“Slasher,” Faith answered as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

“Seconded,” Dawn beamed, telling Micah better than words the thirteen-year-old did not get to watch horror movies often.

“Thirded,” Zane laughed, adding his vote. 

Buffy frowned before offering, “Fourthed?” as if she wasn’t sure that was right. 

“Majority rules,” Joyce agreed but tacked on, “Though one of you has to dig the movie out of the DVD collection.”

“We can stream,” Dawn offered. 

“The internet won’t be set up until tomorrow.” 

Dawn and Buffy shared a look before the youngest mock whispered, “That’s the real horror.” 

“Sheltered,” Faith snarked. 

“You do realize you’re one of us now,” Dawn snapped. 

Faith’s smirk softened into a smile. “I don’t mind that.” 

“Welcome to the family,” Joyce smiled. “Now help me do the dishes while Buffy works with Merle to get the television set up downstairs.” 

“I spoke too soon.” 

\+ 

He followed his nose downstairs, towards the scent of fresh coffee and the sound of Nathaniel attempting to persuade Anita into breakfast. She rarely ate anything before eleven and if Micah’s nose was correct, she was turning down fresh baked biscuits and homemade sausage gravy. Nathaniel also seemed to have an aversion to store-bought. He needed to get Joyce’s hot chocolate recipe for him. 

The kitchen was filled with dark wood and a large island in the center. The hooks above it had been empty when Micah moved in, but they were slowly being filled by Nathaniel’s requests for different sized pans. Their third was by far the most domestic. The Kitchen Aid mixer—with all the attachments—was out and dominating the counter. Micah made his way past it towards the coffee maker. 

A warmth spread across his shoulders to slip down his spine and he knew Anita’s gaze tracked his movement. Nathaniel moved ahead of him to pour Micah a cup of coffee, leaving enough space for the cream he knew was already on the kitchen table. 

“Good morning.” Nathaniel’s eyes gathered at the corners, his smile somehow welcoming and tired. 

“Morning,” Micah accepted the cup and turned to the table, much smaller than the one he’d shared pizza at the Summers’ home last night, took the seat across from Anita rather than next to her. 

Her brows tugged inward with his choice, but, if Micah was being honest with himself, she distracted him just as much as he distracted her, and they had things to discuss. He smiled at the lone biscuit and just a bit of gravy on the plate in front of her. Nathaniel won this round. 

A plate was place in front of him, the portions much larger, and Micah looked up at him with a smile. “Thank you.” 

He retrieved the creamer from the center of the table, its container was shaped like a small cow, and that amused Nathaniel to no end. He topped his coffee with it and then took his first sip of coffee was the steam from his plate warmed his arms.

“How did it go last night?” Nathaniel settled himself beside Anita with a plate full of food for himself.

“It went well,” Micah’s gaze turned to Anita as he stated, “Faith, the werelion, is friends with one of the local wolves who filled her on what’s going on with the pack currently.” 

Anita’s brows rose. “Do I want to know?” 

“Unlikely,” Micah sighed, “But you’re already aware of Richard’s mishandling of things.” 

She snorted with his choice in words and Micah put down his coffee retrieve the pepper from the center of the table and added a liberal about to his gravy. “I did want to discuss with you the possibility of Buffy,” he ignored her second snort of the morning, “and Dawn, the cheetahs, running with the leopards for the next few full moons. They’re young and this is all still new to them.” 

“Do you think it would cause any issues?” Anita asked before taking a hesitant bite of her biscuit. 

“I don’t believe so,” Micah looked to Nathaniel, “What do you think?” 

Nathaniel bowed his head, as he often did when his opinion was requested, but Micah’s status as Nimir-Raj meant he didn’t always think of things from the right perspective. “Are they dominate?” 

“Dawn is thirteen and follows Buffy or Faith.” Micah thought of his interactions with them and admitted, “I believe once Buffy becomes more comfortable with her new world order she’ll be come into her own. She’s powerful. I think the dominant will come. It comes out now where Dawn’s concerned.” 

“Elizabeth won’t like another dominant female running with us,” Nathaniel stated the truth as he saw it. 

“I wouldn’t mind another dominant female around to put Elizabeth in her place.” Anita offered, tone mild but just as honest as Nathaniel’s. 

“Elizabeth doesn’t seem to like much of anything,” Micah observed, “I don’t think her discomfort should be the deciding factor.” 

Anita took another bite before inquiring, “How did Merle and Zane feel about them?” 

“Buffy won Merle over and Zane may have been adopted by Joyce,” a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, “I’ve been warned she may adopt more of us.” 

Anita scowled into her coffee and Micah knew being adopted by a motherly figure was not on her list of wants or needs, but Nathaniel looked wistful before the distrust settled over his features. Micah found himself explaining, “I think she’s overcompensating because she believes she failed her girls the night of the attack.” 

“She’s human and was unarmed,” Anita’s face softened with her understanding, “Not everyone does well in a crisis.” 

“Buffy did,” Nathaniel added as he broke apart a biscuit to eat while he looked at Micah, “You mentioned she attacked the shifter to distract it long enough for Dawn and Joyce to escape.” 

“She did,” Micah agreed, “She kept her head and put herself in harm’s way to protect her sister.” 

“We could use more of that in the pard,” Anita put down her fork to retrieve her coffee. 

“I think so too,” Micah agreed. 

Anita searched Micah’s face, brown eyes narrowed in concentration as she worked through what she considered a problem, before she asked, “Are you wanting them to join us temporarily or are you hoping for something more permanent?” 

Nathaniel’s brows rose with the question and he turned his focus fully on Micah. He was only a little older than Faith and Buffy, both of them would be twenty in a few months, but the way he looked at the world sometimes made him seem so much older. Though it still amazed Micah that while Nathaniel’s life had made him tired, it hadn’t hardened him. Not like it had Anita.

“Temporary for now, but I’m not against it becoming long term it they aren’t.” Micah found himself clarifying. “There aren’t any other cheetahs in St. Louis and Buffy was concerned she might need help with Dawn as she gets older.” 

Anita’s mouth thinned before she shook her head and some of the tension left her shoulders. “This is exactly why the Coalition was created. For shifters to help each other. It’d be pretty shitty of us not to lead by example.” 

Micah reached across the table to take put his hand over hers. The feel of her skin, warm and slightly callused, drew a shuddering breath from him and her scent warmed with first stirrings of arousal. Micah squeezed her hand, gentle and more neutral than either of them wanted, but he kept himself on task. “Thank you.” 

She exhaled, sharp and just a little breathy, and gently withdrew her hand to cup her coffee mug and bring it in front of her. Micah smiled at the fluffy penguins depicted on it before he turned to Nathaniel and asked, “Do you agree?” 

“I think we should have them and the pard over.” Nathaniel looked at Anita and then back to him before stating, his voice certain, “And do introductions before the first full moon.” 

“Should we allow them to bring Faith?” Micah explained the reason for the question. “Joseph made it clear that Buffy and Dawn weren’t welcome in their pride.” 

“Faith is that integrated with them?” Anita seemed more curious than put off by the request. 

“Faith and Buffy teamed up to keep Dawn safe. They’ve bonded and I think she might be the key to getting Joseph’s pride onboard with the Coalition.” Micah clarified and laid out his ideas for the pair. 

Anita and Nathaniel exchanged glances before Anita took point, “Aren’t the lions already part of the Coalition?” 

Micah’s mouth thinned into an unforgiving line and took a bite of his cooling breakfast. The task of chewing gave him a moment to curb his frustration with Joseph and clarified, “In name mostly.” 

“Establishing a relationship with Buffy and Dawn brings the added bonus of a werelion who I’m assuming is dominate enough to give you aid with the rest of the pride.” Anita shook her head, “Have you been taking pointers from Jean-Claude?” 

Micah inclined his head and acknowledged, “It’s an added bonus, but my primary objective is to help Buffy and Dawn.” 

“You’ve taken a lot of calls from Joyce,” Nathaniel interjected. 

Anita glanced at him before looking to Micah, “That’s true.”

“She’s doing her best.” Micah admitted, “It makes me want to do mine.” 

“I think I want to meet her.” Nathaniel made it a request, but something told Micah neither he nor Anita had a say in the matter for once. 

“Buffy and Dawn first,” Anita countered, “We’ll introduce them to the pard. Then we can introduce a few select members to Joyce and Faith.” 

“That sounds reasonable.” Micah agreed. 

“Okay.” Nathaniel went back to his breakfast. 

Micah caught Anita’s eye and smiled, watched her face scrunch up a bit as if she was attempting figure out if she was upset with him or not. He ducked his head to hide the widening his smile before he started eating. He wasn’t going to argue with her when they were doing a good thing and there was nothing wrong with doing something for multiple reasons.

Anita sighed and picked her coffee; not admitting defeat, but not willing to fight over it either. Micah took the win for what it was and they finished the rest of the breakfast in companionable silence.


	3. hey, little bird

title: hey, little bird  
prompt: panic attack @ hurt/comfort bingo

* * *

Sunlight caught on the chip in the center of the windshield, sending a glimmer of light to dance across the dashboard. In her peripheral Buffy watched Dawn as she leaned forward to chase the bit of sparkle with her index finger. It made her smile and make a mental note to pick up another kit to repair the chip before it became an issue. Jeep Wranglers were built like boxes with a flat windshield that was prone to cracking and she didn’t need the hassle of replacing another windshield. Regardless of if it was covered by insurance or not. 

They hit a patch of shade and Dawn glanced down at her phone before advising to take the next left. Her little sister wasn’t always the best navigator, but the most recent road trip from California to Missouri had made her marginally better. Buffy adjusted her feet on the pedals to accommodate the shift in gears as she slowed down and waited for traffic to clear. 

The next song from her playlist filled the Jeep and Dawn groaned loud enough that Buffy rolled her eyes before turning up the volume. She liked music she could shake her pompoms to and that wasn’t a euphemism. 

All four years of high school she’d spent on the cheerleading squad with the last two as captain. Searching for fun songs to do choreography to had filled her free time and the dance classes she’d attended for inspiration. Hemery didn’t have a pom squad, so the cheerleaders filled two rolls and under her supervision they’d gone to nationals. Twice. 

“You know these lyrics will pilfered from Lolita, right?” Dawn scoffed at the chorus and turned the volume back down. 

“What’s that?” Buffy retorted, feigning ignorance as she was well aware of the inspiration for the song and the Lana Del Ray’s adoration of things quirk-some. 

Dawn failed to use her nose and instead pounced, “Lolita is a classic,” she glanced down at her phone and frowned. “You needed to make that right.” 

“What?” Buffy glanced in the review mirror and frowned before slowing the Jeep to U-turn at the next opportunity. “Your navigation skills are as stellar as ever.” 

Dawn ignored her, like usual, and mocked, “You know you could crack a book that _wasn’t_ a class requirement.” 

“Then what would you lord over me?” Buffy snapped as she was finally able to get the Jeep pointed in the right direction and headed back to where they needed to turn. 

“There’s plenty for me to lord over you,” Dawn smirked and motioned to the upcoming left. “That one.” 

Buffy took the turn before challenging Dawn, “Name one.” 

“Growing,” she deadpanned. 

Her lips quirked, but Buffy resisted the urge to approve of little sister’s excellent snark and snapped. “Brat.” 

“Homunculus.” 

She stole that from Big Bang Theory and regardless of how true or not it was Buffy countered. “ _Enfant terrible_ ,” in an accent that her French teacher would’ve found acceptable. 

Blue eyes narrowed and Dawn’s mouth pulled in at the corners, as if she was torn between amusement and annoyance, before she grudgingly admitted, “That tutor wasn’t for nothing.” 

“I like to think so,” Buffy agreed and then shrugged the shoulder closest to Dawn, “Of course that tutor was the only reason I managed four years of French in high school.” 

“You only did four years of French so you could go on that European trip senior year.” Dawn argued. 

“Truth,” Buffy agreed and then beamed, “And my passport has way more stamps than yours.” 

“That’s because you’re like thirty.” Dawn snapped. 

“I should smother you in your sleep.” Buffy grumbled beneath her breath. 

“Ha!” Dawn crowed. “Mom and Faith wouldn’t let you.”

“If you talked to them the way you talk to me, they might.” 

“I’m death wish free,” Dawn countered, “thanks.” The sharp edge to her scent meant little sister had taken long enough to consider talking to them like that before discarding the idea. “Second left ahead.” 

The Jeep took the turn and they were suddenly in a neighborhood with houses set back from the road and spaced far enough apart that they had actual yards. They hadn’t exactly had a yard in LA, more paver stones and one lonely Jacaranda that their mother had babied. Though, if she was being honest, Buffy would miss those purple-blue blooms come spring. 

“The next right and then an immediate left,” Dawn tapped her phone screen before clarifying. “Then we’ll be on the street Micah lives on.” 

Following those directions Buffy saw a house just down the street with a full driveway and several cars parked along the street in front of it. Dawn exhaled, her heart picking up speed as she fiddled with her phone. “We’re late.” 

“We’re not late,” Buffy countered and glanced at the radio to note the time. “We’re early.” 

“You shouldn’t have taken so long to get ready.” 

Dawn’s heart was beating a rapid tempo and Buffy was forced to ignore it as she aimed for a spot further down the street that offered a bit of shade. St. Louis summers were as brutal a southern California, but lacked the breezes the ocean offered. Keeping the Jeep, and the air conditioning running, Buffy unbuckled herself before turning to face her terrified sister. 

“I brushed my hair before we left.” Buffy stated simply and without reproach.

“You touched up your lip gloss,” there was real accusation in her tone. Dawn didn’t look at her, body still as she remained buckled in and facing forward. 

Buffy reached out, fingers catching in Dawn’s hair and directed a section to fall away from her shoulder. She repeated the motion, soothing and slow, a few more times before Dawn let out a breath that didn’t hurt to hear and her heart slowed. She looked at Buffy, blue eyes meeting hers head on. 

When had Dawn become tall enough that she didn’t have to look up at her when seated?

“We’re not late.” Dawn told her, voice soft but still uneasy. 

“We’re not.” 

“I wish Faith had come.”

“Me too,” Buffy admitted. 

Dawn nodded and unbuckled her seatbelt. Buffy turned off the Jeep and grabbed the present and her purse from the back. She handed the present to Dawn and told her, “Come on,” before pushing the driver’s side door open and advised Dawn, “Don’t forget to lock it.” 

She heard the click and followed suit before closing the door with enough force that the Jeep rocked. Wincing and giving her an apologetic pat Buffy dropped the keys into her purse and turned to find Dawn already invading her personal space. Little sister was crackling with nervous energy and Buffy frowned at the annoyingly familiar top beneath her rust-colored overalls. 

“Nice shirt,” Buffy sighed and then motioned her forward, “Let me fix the sleeves at least.”

“It looks better on me,” Dawn lied, and Buffy quirked a brow as she rolled first one short sleeve and then the other to make the length work. Dawn tugged at the hem of the shorts before looking at Buffy and frowning, “Should I have worn a dress?” 

“I wore this to my interview with the guidance counselor.” Buffy reminded her and then steered her towards the house. “And you wouldn’t let me change.” 

“It’s a little short,” Dawn commented, some of her sass coming back and of course it was at her expense. 

Buffy put a hand to the small of her back and shoved. Dawn missed a step and turned to glare at her as she made her way up the driveway. The distraction worked and the otherworldly energy around Dawn dissipated as the familiar annoyance with her big sister took hold. 

Glancing down at her skater dress that hit her at mid-thigh Buffy pondered its length before shaking off Dawn’s comment. The blush color looked good against her tan and the black floral design matched her ankle boots. The strapless bra she could’ve done without, but Dawn’s nagging hadn’t allotted her the time to change into something more comfortable. 

They made their way up the walkway to the front door and the bed of pretty flowers beneath a large window made her smile, thinking of her mom’s Jacaranda. Dawn hesitated at the front door and Buffy reached around her to ring the bell. Her thin shoulders stiffened as Dawn seemed to realize she was in front and rectified the situation by moving swiftly behind Buffy as the door opened. 

“Wuss,” Buffy hissed before plastering on her best cheerleader smile as someone unfamiliar greeted them, “Hello!”

“We brought a present,” Dawn said by way of greeting and thrust the paper bag around Buffy towards the stranger. 

The door was opened wider, sunlight spilling across their greeter’s face and it was quite the face. Lavender eyes gathered at the corners and they were presented with a boyishly charming smile as he accepted the gift. Buffy heard little sister audibly gulp and stepped forward, drawing the focus to her. “Is Micah home?” 

“He is,” he made room for them to enter, “I’m Nathaniel.” 

“Buffy is me,” she said and dropped an arm around Dawn’s shoulder, which was frustratingly level to her own, “And this is Dawn.” 

Buffy used the arm to bring them forward into the house, but Dawn was hesitant to follow. Her Chucks making chuffing should as she wore down the felt—or more precisely Buffy’s Chucks. Green eyes narrowed on the thievery before they lifted to take in a living room filled with people.

There was a lot of leather on various persons and even more undressed folks, but everything that needed to be covered was covered. Which meant Micah had given the memo to his people that Buffy wanted her thirteen-year-old sister to see as little nudity as possible for as long as possible. 

Dawn tucked herself tight against her side which wouldn’t help if anyone attacked, but she was very much a vibrating presence, and Buffy couldn’t bring herself to let go. She squeezed Dawn’s shoulder and gave the only person she knew a wave. 

Merle’s gaze had gone soft when it settled on Dawn and he made his way to them. Nathaniel came up from the rear on Dawn’s side. Buffy raised a brow when she caught sight of the long braid that fell down his back to stop just below his calves. Faith was never again allowed to bitch about how long it took Buffy to blow dry her hair. 

He didn’t look much older than her and was broad through the shoulders and taller, but then so many people were that Buffy was numb to the feeling of looking up to speak with someone. “Would you like me to introduce you?” 

Merle settled on her other side and Buffy glanced at him but refrained from stepping into him. She didn’t need his protection, at least not yet, and pressed onward with the same smile that had won state. “Sure.” 

Micah came into the room from an opening that looked to be the entrance to the kitchen and the combination of his and Merle’s presence settled the vibrating sister at her side. Dawn stepped back just a bit, making herself her own person to be introduced and Buffy’s searched her face before letting her arm fall away. Her scent told Buffy she was still uneasy, but there wasn’t much she could do about it. 

Zane, they were familiar with and he in turn introduced them to a pretty blonde, which appeared to be her natural color if her brows were any indication, whose name was Cherry and her gaze was as suspicious as Dawn smelled. Vivian was unfairly pretty and timid enough that she wouldn’t meet Buffy’s gaze. 

Voilet and Gina shared the recliner and Buffy was noticing a theme that the leopards weren’t nearly as dominating as the pride back in LA. Noah stood behind the recliner and meet her gaze head on which put him closer to Zane in Buffy’s estimation of the group’s hierarchy. 

Names and waves, from Dawn, were exchanged and Buffy turned to greet Micah and the brunette at his side. Brown eyes were studying them and while the face wasn’t unfriendly it didn’t look entirely happy either. Buffy assumed she was Anita and she lived with Micah and Nathaniel. Buffy glanced at Nathaniel beside Dawn and had to admit she to being a smidgen jealous. 

“Well aren’t you pretty,” the waspish tone implied the speaker of those words didn’t think that was a good thing. 

Dawn eased away from Buffy and closer to Merle, who settled a hand on her shoulder and told the room Dawn was under his protection. Buffy inclined her head in thanks before looking towards the occupied stairs. The woman, a sneering brunette with more makeup than sense, and the man, bare chested with an obscene stare, were given an arched brow rather than a smile before she told the woman, “Thank you,” with as much sincerity as her compliment had held.

Buffy didn’t bother to learn their names. She turned to towards the entryway of the kitchen that still held Anita and Micah. The Nimir-Raj seemed amused by her dismissal of bitchy and creepy and some of the tension had left Anita, the Nimir-Ra. She was petite and her fashion sense was lacking, but the shoulder hostler and gun distracted from the red polo and jeans combo. 

Stepping forward, Buffy offered Anita her hand first—many a charitable event her parents had hosted taught her to always great the woman first—and her brows rose before she accepted the handshake. It was firm and brisk and it made Buffy’s smile real because her father would’ve liked Anita for that handshake alone. 

“Dawn and Buffy brought us a present,” Nathaniel stated as Buffy stepped back. 

Anita accepted the bag, opening it before her lips quirked and the smile soften the hard set to her jaw and notched her up the pretty scale. Bitchy probably hated her too. 

“Zane said there were thirteen members to your pard,” Dawn interrupted and glanced around from her safe place beside Merle. 

“Gregory is running late,” Zane offered from his spot on the couch. 

“Gregory is always running late,” Cherry countered. 

Vivian smiled and nodded, “He usually is,” her tone made it sound like she was apologizing for him. 

“Homemade hot chocolate?” Anita questioned as she brought out one of the two containers and Micah smiled at Buffy since that particular gift had been his idea. 

“And mom’s recipes,” Buffy explained to Nathaniel, “Micah thought you’d appreciate that more.” 

Nathaniel’s gaze went first to Micah and then to Buffy. “I do,” he sounded surprised that he’d been considered in the gift before his smile turned nearly as beaming as her cheerleading one. “Thank you.” 

Okay. His smile was loads more sincere and Buffy heard Dawn’s heart pitter pattering behind her. She hoped Faith was right and Anita wasn’t entirely a shifter or she was going to for sure know how smitten a kitten little sister was with Nathaniel. Micah seemed vaguely amused but since he lived with Nathaniel also Buffy moved to block his sight of Dawn. 

Those chartreuse, Mom’s description not hers, eyes caught her gaze and his half smile spread into a much larger one. It held an edge of mockery to it, but Buffy wasn’t sure if it was with her or himself. His scent gave her nothing—not that she was good at that yet. Faith was trying her damnedest to teach her to lead with her nose but unless it was Dawn she was at a loss. 

“Why don’t we take this into the kitchen.” Micah offered and stepped back from Anita to make room for her to pass, “There are few things we need to discuss.” 

Buffy turned to the side, giving those near the recliner her back as she looked at Dawn. She was close to Merle and giving her the same uneasy look back since the pride had separated them more than once to control the other. 

“We were going to watch a movie,” Zane rose from his spot on the couch and moved around the coffee table towards Merle and Dawn and it drew her little sister’s focus to him before he asked, “Want to join us?” 

Blue eyes narrowed, studying first Zane, who rose to his full height under her stare, and then Merle, who wasn’t affected in the least by a tween’s scrutiny, before they settled on Buffy. There was stubborn set to Dawn’s jaw, but the look in her eyes wasn’t a confident one. Buffy turned to Micah and found his face a careful mask and knew that baby steps of trust needed to be made. 

“I’m going to be right through there,” Buffy pointed to the open entry and watched Dawn’s shoulder slump. Mustering the strength to not give into the world class pout being directed at her—why had she taught her how to do that again—took effort and Buffy remaindered her, “You know how fast I am.” 

Dawn took a deep inhale before letting it out on a sigh and mumbled, “Okay.” 

Bitchy made a scoffing sound and asked Dawn, “You think Bimbo Barbie here can keep you safe?” 

Brown eyes settled on Buffy, looked her up and down with enough disdain that irritation stirred her beast and made Buffy count to ten in her head as Dawn snapped, “I think you’re light of brain.” 

“Elizabeth,” Anita filled Bitchy’s real name with enough heat that it sounded like a threat, but it didn’t stop her forward momentum as she stalked towards Dawn. 

Power prickled along her skin and told Buffy that Dawn’s barb and struck a chord. Stalker-guy fell away as she got closer to Dawn and Merle. The older leopard had tucked Dawn behind him in a none too subtle reminder that she was under his protection. 

Which was sweet and all, but Buffy didn’t like the edge to Elizabeth’s scent or the way she was glaring at Dawn. Four quick steps and she was between them. She’d moved faster than intended because Elizabeth was blinking stupidly at her sudden appearance and Zane stumbled back a step. 

Merle remained unfazed and Dawn had seen her move faster, but Buffy was focused on Elizabeth. She gave up on reigning in her own inner bitch, and cheetah, and a warm spreading rush of power came from the core of her to spill out through her skin. 

She felt the others in the room stir, but she remained focused and pressed down on Elizabeth. There was a guttural hiss in her head that spilled out of her mouth and Elizabeth snarled in response. Her power flared and Buffy stepped forward, through that stinging edge and met Elizabeth’s gaze, unaffected by her power and unmoved by her threat. 

Brown eyes narrowed and then dipped, breaking contact and her shoulders had slumped before she’d realized what she’d done. The battle of wills won—for now—Buffy took stock of the rest of the room and saw Zane still standing hesitantly by Merle and Dawn. Merle looked pleased and Cherry was looking at her like she might not be a complete waste of space. 

Vivian stilled looked timid and now a bit terrified, but Violet drew her gaze as the thin woman rolled off the recliner to moved forward, body low and contorted to remain that way. She kept her head bowed as she crawled to Buffy and lifted a pale hand up. Some of the pride did this with Eric, and Faith, but never with her and while she knew what came next, she hesitated. 

The frail woman made a keening noise and Buffy presented her with a hand. Violet licked a wet line across her knuckles while Buffy felt a gentle touch on her arm. She turned to find Dawn beside her and pulled her close to press quick kiss to her forehead. Violet continued to rub her check against Buffy’s handed and let out a content sigh. Gina inclined her head from her place on the recliner but didn’t budge and the look Noah was giving her wasn’t entirely friendly. 

Movement behind her turned Buffy’s head to find Cherry standing beside Zane and Vivian was crawling towards her. She had dropped her head to stare at the colorful carpet beneath her before she hesitated just outside of touching distance. Dawn seemed to realize the issue and stepped back so Buffy could give a hand to Vivian. 

She mimicked Violet’s actions and then some of the tension left her as she smiled up at Buffy. The smile notched her up from unfairly pretty to breathtaking and Buffy realized she’d probably hurt anyone that threatened either of the two women at her feet. Crap. 

Stalker-guy strolled forward, thumbs tucked into the beltloops of his jeans, pushing them down enough that Buffy was pretty sure he wasn’t wearing underwear. That made her frown as her gaze traveled up his bare chest past those pierced nipples to settle on his leering face. 

He smiled, kind of smarmy like, and offered, “I’m Caleb.” 

“Buffy,” was offered, blandly and it conveyed just how uninterested she was in him because the lecherous light in his eyes dimed. 

“Bitch,” Elizabeth snarled and Buffy got the sneaking suspicion jealousy was now rearing its head in the brunette. 

“That’s Ms. Bitch to you.” Buffy offered, voice honey sweet and still somehow ragingly catty, a tone that usually set her mom’s teeth on edge. 

Dawn interjected, “I thought you were Captain Bitch.” 

“That was in high school,” Buffy reminded her. Though to be fair the squad rarely called her that to her face. 

“They called you Captain Bitch?” Zane questioned, amused by the thought. 

The friendly ribbing tampered her irritation and Buffy urged the cheetah back and down before extracting her hands from the two least dominant shifters in the room. Vivian and Violet moved closer, hands catching for a calf and ankle alternately and Buffy rain a gentle touch over both of their bowed heads. 

Dawn’s head inclined and she looked amused at two leopards abasing themselves to Buffy. The weakest of the lions had always just avoided her, and Buffy was starting to wonder if that had been more Eric’s doing than her being a cheetah. 

“I told you,” Buffy smiled at Zane, “I ruled the school with an iron fist.” 

He grinned, flashing pointy teeth, and pulled Cherry into his side before admitting, “You did.” 

“Well, Captain,” Micah drew everyone’s focus, “we have things to discuss.” 

Buffy turned to find Micah, vaguely amused smile back in place, and Anita was frowning—which might be her default expression. 

“Right,” Buffy glanced at around at other shifters and Merle stepped forward, placing himself between Elizabeth and Dawn. Noticing the dilemma before it was voiced Dawn stepped back and into the protection Merle offered and Buffy extracted herself from Violet and Vivian. 

Violet returned to Gina and Cherry came forward to collect Vivian. Buffy thought the blonde sniffed her, but choose to ignore the oddity of shifter behavior, mostly cause a part of her wanted to sniff her back, she looked to Dawn. “You got this.” 

It was more of an order than question, but Dawn smiled. “I got this.” 

Casting one last warning glare towards Elizabeth she followed the thruple into the kitchen. It was filled with dark wood and an oversized island that had one of those pot racks that hung over it like in the movies. It was only partially filled, but still held more pots and pans than she knew what to do with. 

“Would you like some coffee?” Nathaniel asked as he separated from Anita and Micah and headed towards the counter behind the island. 

“Caffeine me up.” 

“Yes, please.” 

Buffy and Anita spoke in unison and exchanged glances, the other woman’s frown lessening a degree or two as if she’d decided someone who liked coffee couldn’t be all bad. 

And Buffy wasn’t all bad. Dawn still breathing was a perfect example of her un-badness.

The pair settled at the table that was smaller than the one they had at home and placed themselves with their backs to the wall. A glass door was to the left and Buffy caught sight of the sky paling to lavender and crimson as the sun set beyond the tree line. It was a nice view, and they could enjoy it while keeping an eye on the entry way which left Buffy to sit across from them with her back to rest of their people. 

Her nose twitched and her beast, shifted upward to crowd her chest as she scented the air. Coffee grinds was the heaviest with an artificial lemon that left behind a burning tingle. Resisting the urge to sneeze Buffy tried to sniff past the superficial smells of the room to its occupants. Their scents were all different, but intermingled, and they were missing the predatory edge Eric got when he set her up for something unpleasant. 

Anita watched her with a little more interest and a smile tugged at the corner of her mouth when Buffy finally took the seat across from her. Micah remained at ease beside her as if he’d never considered her not taking a seat. His gaze slid to Nathaniel as other man retrieved items from the cabinets and fridge. 

Buffy cast a glance at the open entry leading into the living and contemplated pitching her voice lower, but the lack of door meant there was little chance Elizabeth wouldn’t hear—so screw it—and asked, “Is she going to be an issue?” 

Micah inclined his head with the question as the sound of the coffee maker coming to life behind them kept his focus as he offered, “Dawn’s safe. Elizabeth isn’t an issue for Merle.” 

A brow rose and Anita cast a look at Micah that Buffy couldn’t decipher but assumed it didn’t bode well for her. “So she’s just an issue for little ‘ole me. Fabulous.” 

“She didn’t seem to be much of one.” Anita offered and there was definitely an amused tilt to her mouth and Buffy was guessing it hadn’t been just her that Elizabeth pissed off. 

“She’s not,” there was a snarl from the living room and Buffy’s eyes narrowed before she raised her voice, “You come in here and I’m going to assume you mean me harm,” the mean little smile she got when she starting to get pissed quirked her mouth, “You don’t want me to assume that, Elizabeth.” 

There was the sound of movement and an affronted noise or two before the front door opened and slammed hard enough to shake the frame. Buffy arched a brow as she heard a car start and looked at Anita before stating, “Sorry, not sorry?” 

Anita rolled her eyes and Buffy felt vindicated because full on adults did it too and her mother was so very wrong on that front. “It’s fine.”

The ambient kitchen noises settled, and Nathaniel came to the table with a tray filled with coffee trimmings that would’ve looked more at home in a movie. A silver carafe held the coffee with small ceramic containers holding the three different kinds of sugar, one of them even cubes, and stackable mugs, but it was the little ceramic cow that made Buffy’s smile go from mean to joyful. 

She laughed and picked up the creamer filled cow to get a closer look. “We had one of these when I was kid. It mooed when you poured out the creamer,” Buffy caught sight of Anita and Micah watching her and quickly put the cow down, “Not that you care. Shut up, Buffy.” 

Dropping her hands to her lap and her gaze followed suit, suddenly uncomfortable and out of place. Nathaniel set a mug filled with coffee in front of her and the cow was placed next to it. “I care,” he assured her and asked, “It mooed?” 

Buffy glanced up at him and saw the corner of his eyes had gathered as he smiled down at her. “It did. Mom and Dad couldn’t pour their own creamer after that. I had to do it.” 

She caught the look Nathaniel cast towards Anita. The brunette sighed and accepted her coffee before agreeing, “We can get one that moos.” 

Micah glanced back and forth between them before he accepted his mug and Buffy hurried to lighten her cup with the cream before offering it to Anita. She accepted the cow, lips quirking just a bit as her fingers wrapped around the tail. Buffy went for the sugar cubes, cause why not, and added two to her coffee. Nathaniel settled into the seat beside her and poured himself a mug before adding an obscene amount of sugar to it. 

“We wanted to ask you and Dawn to join us next full moon.” Anita made the offered before taking her fist sip. 

“Do you run with the leopards?” Buffy asked before mimicking her and drinking. The flavor was spot on and even with the addition of the cold creamer the temperature was just right. “This is good coffee.”

Nathaniel smiled at the praise, but Anita drew her focus back to her with the admission. “Not always.” 

“You’re new,” Micah told her as if she didn’t already know, “You still need the stability of a group of shifters to keep you grounded.” 

“Elizabeth didn’t seem all that grounded,” Buffy countered, “or stable.”

“She’s not the only member of our pard.” Micah didn’t rise to her baiting, but his brow did, and Buffy ducked her head. 

“We could use another _leoparde lionne_ ,” Nathaniel advised the table as a whole and Buffy frowned at him because the translation of those words made little sense to her. He caught the look and clarified, “A leopard who leads and protects.” 

“I am not a leader,” Buffy was quick to clarify. 

“Not yet,” Micah smiled into his coffee. 

“Also? Not a leopard.” 

“Neither am I,” Anita reminded her, amused by her denial of the obvious. 

Buffy’s eyes narrowed, considering them before asking, “Is that why you’re so open to Dawn and I hanging out with you?” 

“Hanging out?” Micah questioned before shaking his head, “We need shifters to work closer together. To help one another regardless of their animal.”

“So we’re your lead by example.” 

Buffy wasn’t sure she liked being a paint by numbers, but it was leaps and bounds better than the reason Eric had embraced them. She wasn’t just a nummy treat for the Master of the City and Dawn wasn’t the best way to keep her in line. The thought of her little sister had Buffy turning an ear towards the entry to the living room. She could hear what sounded like Jurassic Park playing and the soft mummers of voices, but nothing concerning. 

“Rafael agreed to meet with you at the Coalition’s office next week,” Micah’s voice drew her focus and Buffy looked up to find him frowning at her and likely the sudden change to her scent. 

“That’s great!” Buffy then reconsidered her answer, “Who’s Rafael?”

“He’s the leader of the wererats,” Anita told her. 

“Will he expect a present?” Buffy contemplated what you’d get a wererat. Cheese? One of those little wheels but bigger? 

Micah shook his head and derailed her train of amused thought with, “Unlikely.” 

“Why do you want to meet with him exactly?” Anita glanced at Micah before clarifying, “You seem to know how to handle yourself.” 

“Lions are pretty rough and tumble,” Buffy admitted before shrugging, “Martial arts sort of prepares you for getting into those life or death fights, but not really. A dojo and the real world are two very different beasts. ‘Sides Faith told me to avoid the dojo until I’m a more comfortable me.” 

Anita inclined her head in agreement. “That’s probably for the best.” 

“Do you think he’ll agree to helping me?” Buffy asked the table at large. 

“I think it’ll depend on how you ask.” Micah offered, “Most shifters aren’t willing to admit another has the advantage.” 

“Well I’m a full-on newbie,” Buffy grinned at Nathaniel when he snorted into his coffee but redirected to Micah and Anita, “So what does it hurt to ask? The worst he can do is say no and think me weak for asking,” a smile tugged at the corner of her mouth, “If he wants to underestimate me for that. That’s his loss.” 

“He won’t,” Anita shook her head, dark hair spilling around her shoulders with enviable volume, “I don’t think I’ve ever heard his people speak poorly of him. He’s strict but fair.” 

Nathaniel leaned forward, snagging another two cubes of sugar before adding, “He’s well loved by most of his people.” 

“Most?” Buffy made it a question. 

“It’s hard to make everyone happy,” Micah countered. 

“Right,” Buffy enjoyed her coffee while she studied the smile Anita shared with Micah. She hated to interrupt their moment, but Faith had given her orders. “Anything on the job front?” 

“Guilty Pleasures is hiring a new Holy Item Check Girl,” Nathaniel informed her. 

“I’m sorry,” Buffy frowned since none of that made sense, “Guilty what is hiring a what?” 

Anita admonished, “Nathaniel, I don’t think—”

He interrupted, pushing on to explain. “Guilty Pleasures is a vampire and shifter strip club,” his smile stretched when Buffy gave him wide eyes, “We have a Holy Item Check Girl that checks patrons’ holy items so they can’t be used against the staff.” 

Her mouth may have been hanging open, and she was ignoring Micah’s amused gaze while Anita looked like she’d swallowed something sour. A thought occurred and Buffy’s mouth snapped shut as she pondered out loud, “You know, that sounds right up Faith’s alley.”

“Zane thought so too,” Nathaniel gave the table a triumphant grin before settling back in his seat as if to tell them his work was done.

“It’s owned by the Master of the City,” Anita offered and spared a frown at Nathaniel, “Micah had mentioned you might’ve had some issues with vampires in LA?”

“We did.” Buffy made it a statement and didn’t embellish. She mimicked Nathaniel, leaning back in her chair to drink her coffee and ignored the pointed look from the pair across from her. Anita continued to frown and stare, as if she could bully her into sharing with just a look alone. If Buffy was being honest Kimberly gave better bitch face. 

“Dead Dave’s is looking for a waitress,” Micah broke the sudden silence before clarifying, “Part time.” 

“I could be interested in that,” Buffy smiled at him. 

“Dead Dave’s is also owned by a vampire,” Anita tacked on with a little more force than necessary in Buffy’s opinion. 

Micah spared her a frown, “He used to a be a police officer.” 

“They make great burgers,” Nathaniel interjected.

“I’m sensing a theme,” Buffy sighed, shoulders slumping, “Shifter equals unemployed unless those employing are of the supernatural variety.”

“Normally,” Anita’s tone lost its harsh edge and something akin to pity entered her gaze. It chafed more than a little but she pushed on before Buffy could chose to be irritated or not, “I can check with the werewolves to see if the Lunatic Café is hiring. The pack owns it and it’s close to Washington University.” 

Buffy smiled, since that likely meant Micah had mentioned her mother’s preference to Anita and that counted for something. “I’ll actually be matriculating at St. Louis Community College for now. Part time.” 

“That’s good.” Micah assured, “Figured out a major yet?” 

“Baby steps,” Buffy admonished, “I’m taking two core classes and one online elective.” 

“Did you know what you wanted to study before the attack?” Anita questioned as carefully as she could. 

“I was headed to Northwestern before the attack,” Anita’s raised brow made Buffy smile, “Between my SAT scores and extracurriculars I got accepted to my top three schools,” her smiled waned, “and after the attack I was waitlisted.” 

Nathaniel’s hand settled on the forearm closest to him and Buffy smiled at his attempt to comfort. Anita and Micah were giving her similar looks of concern and since she wasn’t here to a play a round of woe-is-Buffy she refocused and asked, “Tell me more about Dead Dave’s.” 

The pair exchanged a glance before Anita leaned back, settling in her own chair before she began, “Luthor is the day time manager and he’s as wide as he is tall,” she frowned, “but it’s like his fat has its own muscle.” 

Amused by that description Buffy leaned forward to before asking, “How’s that?” 

“He’s solid.” Anita clarified with a laugh, “From body to personality. If you want the job you have to win him over first and then Dave.” 

“Dave’s the former cop turned vampire,” Buffy stated for clarification and got a nod from Anita. 

“He’s still a good guy and tries to do the right thing,” Anita smile stretched, “I think Luther will be the harder sell.” 

“Win Luther over. Got it.” Buffy grinned, “How exactly do I do that?” 

“You won over Merle.” Micah offered. 

“You want me to help him move a washer and dryer?” Buffy inclined her head, considering the logistics of randomly offering to help someone to move who likely wasn’t moving. “Seems farfetched.”

“Or,” Anita interjected before Micah to respond, “I could put in a good word for you,” she glanced at Micah, “and Jean-Claude could say something to Dave.” 

Unease tickled the back of her throat and Buffy sipped her coffee instead of agreeing to indebting herself to the Master of the City. Micah glanced at her and Nathaniel’s hand settled on her forearm again. “I think your word would be enough, Anita.” 

“I’m good with just your word,” Buffy sent Micah a grateful smile before adding, “And I have waitressing experience. What kind of customers do they get at Dead Dave’s?”

“Mostly tourists at night,” Nathaniel explained, “People who want a safe glimpse of a vampire.” 

“Safe?” Buffy wasn’t sure that was the right word to be used to describe a vampire. Ever.

“Locals go for the burgers during the day.” Anita countered and lifted her mug to Buffy as if she agreed with the questioning of calling vampires safe. “It’s a popular spot.” 

“I wouldn’t call Helen’s popular,” a frown tugged Buffy’s brows together, “it was more greasy-spoon than fine dining.” 

A door opened and Buffy’s head inclined, wondering in the oh so late Gregory was finally making an appearance. The roar of a dinosaur was followed by a frantic birdlike chirp and Buffy’s chair clatter to the ground behind her. She was already at the entry leading into the living room but paused before taking that final step without first assessing the danger as Dawn continued to call for aid. 

The pride had cured her of rushing blindly in to help Dawn or Faith. She’d been taken down more than once with that tactic until the notion that she couldn’t help anyone if she herself was out for the count was hammered into her skull. Literally. 

The room’s occupants seemed startled by Dawn’s terror and the chirps she was making—that was a call natural cheetah used to find one another and it was reserved for extreme circumstances. 

Buffy caught sight of the cause of Dawn’s distress and her lips peeled back, baring her teeth at the vampire. His face was blank, pale green eyes focused on the room’s occupants, but he didn’t look amused by her sister’s distress. There wasn’t a cruel twist to his mouth or the scent of perpetual dread on the air. 

Micah came up behind her and Buffy moved into the living room, away from him. Her movement drew the vampire’s gaze and she redirected hers to the bridge of his nose. She hadn’t enjoyed being rolled by a vampire in LA and she had no intention of being helpless in a room full of strangers. 

“You didn’t mention vampires lived here.” Buffy didn’t bother to keep the accusation out of her tone. 

“Vampire.” Micah clarified and motioned to him. “This is Damian.” 

“We didn’t know it would be a problem,” Anita spoke as she entered the living room and placed herself between Damian and the rest of the room. 

He reached out to her, hands settling over her shoulders and she leaned into the contact. Buffy’s nostrils flared as she scented the air and the only terror she smelled was Dawn’s. Exhaling Buffy moved, but kept the vampire in her peripheral, as she looked for Dawn. Zane was leaning over the arm of the couch and Merle stood just beside it gaze cast downward at the floor. 

Dawn had wedged herself between the couch and the wall. Still making the chirping noise that brought Buffy’s cheetah to the forefront and she was torn. Going to Dawn meant giving the vampire her back, but the prickle of power eating along her skin told her Dawn was close to shifting if she didn’t get things under control. 

Buffy caught Micah’s gaze and forced direct eye contact as she ordered, “Don’t make me regret trusting you.” 

His chin dipped in acknowledgement and Buffy moved, across the brightly patterned carpet to shove the coffee table aside. Merle stepped back, but Zane continued to make soothing sounds to Dawn. He was smart enough not to touch her and eased back as Buffy knelt beside the couch. 

Amber eyes, ringed with orange and flecked with brown, stared back at her from Dawn’s face. They were wide and uncomprehending and Buffy allowed her power to spill outward with the warm brush of fur. The room blurred around the edges and she knew her eyes had gone to cheetah, a dark rust color without the pretty flecks found in Dawn’s. She pushed that power forward, overriding the frantic spark of Dawn’s with the soothing warmth she’d practiced with Faith. 

The chirping ceased and was replaced with sobs as Dawn launched herself forward. Buffy caught, she always caught her, and lifted her little sister up. Zane moved aside, presenting her with a spot on the couch and Buffy accepted it. She arranged Dawn on her lap as the steady rumble of her purr filled the silence of the room. 

Someone had muted or turned off the movie. She couldn’t see around Dawn’s head and didn’t particularly care as she continued the comforting and healing white noise until Dawn’s sobs subsided. She pulled back, eyes still amber but focused, and she whispered. “They separated us and a vampire came.” 

Buffy licked the cheek closet to her, and Dawn made an _ish_ noise. Rubbing at her own checks and rebuilding the parts of herself that thought like a teenager. “I overreacted,” there was a sour grumble in her tone that made Buffy smile despite the situation. 

“You did good,” Buffy countered and ignored some of the uneasy movements from the rooms occupants, “You called for me and got yourself to a safe spot. Though next time go for the door or a window.” 

“Like Faith taught me,” Dawn’s pupils were pinpricks, cheetahs didn’t have the slit pupils like most cats. 

Buffy nodded and switched back to purring since Dawn’s eyes weren’t yet human and the room was still awash with their combined power. Dawn’s presence always gave hers a boost and the calming thoughts she was giving seemed to work equally well with the rest of the room’s occupants. Gina and Cherry had hands on the Vivian and Violet to keep them seated where they were, but Zane seemed content to just sit beside them. 

A softer clicking rumbled to life as Dawn’s purr joined hers, self-soothing at its finest, and Merle stepped back from the couch. Glances were exchanged between him and Micah and he made his way closer to shorter leopard. Micah’s gaze slipped past him to settle on them and he didn’t look displeased with what he was seeing—quite the opposite. 

Nathaniel made his way into the living room and settled himself beside the arm of the chair on the floor. His shoulder was pressed to Buffy’s knee and as soon as he touched her Zane settled himself against her side. Neither of them reached out to them, but instead they gently invaded their personal space—though more Buffy’s than Dawn’s. 

A knock at the front door drew the room’s focus. Dawn’s head settled in the crook of her neck as the front door opened and broad shoulders filled it. Buffy caught sight of blue eyes and blonde hair and a smile that went from welcoming to concerned before the newcomer, who she assumed was Gregory, asked, “What I miss?”

+

They had resettled in the kitchen, Dawn tucked in tight to her side—there was no separating them now—Micah and Anita had graciously allowed the sisters the seats that provided them with an uninterrupted view. They sat across from them, Damian stood behind Anita with his hands still on her shoulders, and Nathaniel was once again acting the hostess and serving coffee. 

Merle and Noah were leaning against the counters behind the island and the rest of the pard had turned back on the movie, but the volume was low enough that Buffy figured they were eavesdropping something fierce. Dawn leaned into Buffy, but her gaze was trained on Damian and all that long flowing red hair, and told her, voice pitched low, “He looks like one of those guys on the cover of the books Mom likes,” her eyes, now blue and wholly human, lifted to Buffy, “You know. The ones I’m not allowed to read.” 

Buffy leaned into her, but didn’t bother to lower her voice before responding, “Vampires have the same excellent hearing as shifters,” those blue eyes widened and a blush worked hard to stain her cheeks, but Buffy continued as if she wasn’t embarrassing her sister, “Besides. His nipples aren’t showing.” 

A strangled sound escaped Anita and Buffy looked up to find her half coughing, half choking on her coffee. Micah’s eyes were bright with amusement, but the vampire’s face was a carefully blank mask. Did they not get how unsettling it was when they went doll like? 

Choosing to ignore the creepiness and her own misgivings for the moment Buffy retrieved her coffee. Nathaniel moved on to Merle and Noah and Micah turned his sole focus on Dawn. She buckled under the pressure and started adding far too many sugar cubes to her coffee. As if sensing he was pushing it Micah shifted his focus to Buffy. She, however, had been stared at by worse and felt no urge to fidget under his scrutiny. 

“Tell us about Los Angeles,” there was a note in his words that made them an order. 

Slurping could be heard from beside her which left Buffy to do the telling and she rolled her eyes at Dawn’s antics. “What do you want to know?”

“Why did Damian terrify you, Dawn?” Anita addressed the question to her little sister which instantly got her points in Buffy’s book. 

Dawn looked to Buffy first, trusting her not lead her astray, but also knowing what went on in LA was like Fight Club. They didn’t talk about it, but it was always present between them and it had the regular episodes of blood and bruises. Sensing her dilemma Buffy nudged her with her elbow and told her, “It’s alright.” 

“Everyone uses me to get to Buffy,” there was an edge of bitterness in her words, “The lions and the vampires.” 

“Well,” Buffy drawled, “If anyone is going to kill you it’s gonna be me.” 

A ghost of a smile quirked Dawn’s mouth, “Yeah, yeah. Smother me in my sleep.” 

“I could sell you to a traveling circus,” Buffy countered, delighted by the offended noise from Dawn. 

“I think your mother would take issue with either of those scenarios.” Micah observed and drew the focus of both sisters. 

“I’m the favorite.” Dawn beamed. 

“Faith’s the favorite.”

Dawn frowned because they booth knew that was scarily accurate now. “She still likes me better than you.” 

“Parent’s don’t have favorites,” Merle tossed in his two scents and Noah nodded. 

“That sounds like something a parent would say to the non-favorite.” Dawn countered with an air of superiority and settled more comfortably into her role as the brattiest person in the room. She looked to Anita and offered, “Buffy was the Master of Los Angeles’ favorite.”

A flinch worked its way across Anita’s features, she looked up at Damian, but his gaze was trained on Dawn. “Angelus?” 

The name was a strangled whisper, but Buffy flinched as Dawn tucked herself in tighter to her side. They both cast a glance towards the sliders leading onto the patio and the night beyond it. “We don’t say his name,” Dawn swallowed, it sounded painful before braving through, “Buffy fits his vic profile.”

Out of the mouths of babes and Anita looked like she’d swallowed something sour. “Vic profile?” 

Dawn shrugged away her concern. “I watch a lot of serial killer documentaries.” 

“You’re so weird.”

“No weirder than your Grey’s Anatomy obsession.”

Buffy caught the looks she was getting and said in her defense, “Hot doctors.” Which to be fair wasn’t much of a defense, but she stood by her love of soapy dramas with ridiculously attractive casts.

“You do resemble Darla,” Damian drew their focus and he studied Buffy a moment, “My old master disliked Darla,” his gaze dropped to Anita and explained for her, “She was too beautiful for her tastes.” 

“This Angelus,” Micah said his name and Dawn hissed, Buffy dropped an arm around her shoulders and nodded for Micah to continue, “Faith told me the Master of Los Angeles’ animal to call was lions.” 

“He’s a _nighthag_ ,” Damian spit out word with such disdain that Buffy’s brows rose. 

“The Master of Los Angeles feeds on fear?” Anita made it a question, but didn’t wait for anyone to answer before grumbling, “Fantastic.” 

“His second is scarier than him,” Dawn whispered.

“Who is his second now?” Damian questioned. 

“Drusilla,” Buffy shuddered before offering, “When she rolls you it’s like she eats pieces of your sanity.” 

“I was under the impression that Drusilla was killed by a mob in Prague.” Damian inclined his head before stating, “Pity.” 

Dawn nodded mutely beside her and Damian’s gaze drifted off as his thoughts went inward. Anita inclined her head, gaze floating between all three of them as if she was thinking of how to best question them while causing the least amount of distress. 

“That’s unsettling.” Buffy looked to Micah and offered him a tired smile. He frowned in return and clarified, “So the lions answered to the vampires and the Master of the City took a special interest in you.”

“Eric knew his preferred type and served Buffy to him.” Dawn’s chin lifted, “and I was a convenient contingency plan.” 

“Not so convenient a few times,” Buffy countered, “You did outsmart William and Dalton more than once.” 

“My babysitters in the land of vampires,” Dawn caught Anita’s raised brow and offered, “They were the least terrifying of bunch. Though William called me niblet a lot.” 

“I didn’t know a William,” Damian admitted. 

“Drusilla made him.” Dawn offered. “He writes poetry and had a soft spot for Buffy because she was the undercat.” 

“Is he like Drusilla?” Damian made it a question and the rest of room stiffened at the implication of what he meant. 

“No,” Dawn shook her head, “He doesn’t rot and according to him he’s bloody glad about that.” 

“Dalton did,” Buffy whispered and Dawn’s arm wound around her waist before offering a squeeze of comfort. Her head inclined and Buffy looked to her little sister, who wasn’t so little anymore and found the courage to ask, “Do the vampires here rot?”

“No,” a hiss followed the denial and Anita tensed under Damian’s grip before the vampire shook his head. “There are no vampires in Jean-Claude’s territory that feed on fear as they do or decay in that manner.” 

Merle cleared his throat and it sounded suspiciously like the word, “Honesty.” 

Dawn stiffened and Buffy’s eyes narrowed as Anita began to squirm under the scrutiny before she explained, “Most of the vampires in St. Louis are descendants of Belle Morte.” 

A brow arched as Buffy explained for Dawn, “Beautiful Death.” 

“You speak French?” Micah made it a question.

“That was my language all four years of high school,” Buffy further clarified, “I understand it better than I speak it.”

“Her accent needs work,” Dawn had to offer her two cents and Buffy spared her a frown. 

Anita and Micah exchanged glances, but before they could derail the conversation with more questions Buffy asked one of her own. “What does being descendants of Belle Morte mean exactly?” 

“Their abilities are more sexual in nature,” Anita was blushing and Buffy’s eyes widened at the implication. 

“Sexual?” Dawn parroted. 

“Earmuffs!”

“Oh, Shut up.” 

Scoffing, Buffy asked, “What exactly can you contribute to a conversation about sex?”

Her lips pursed and Dawn took a moment to ponder before stating, tone just a little uncertain, “People have it?” 

Nathaniel chuckled as he agreed, “She’s not wrong.”

Eyes narrowing, Buffy turned her glare on him, but he remained at ease near Merle and Noah. Dawn made a funny noise and chortled, “Faith is gonna be thrilled!”

Her head dropped backwards. Buffy stared up at the ceiling, which was raised and had crown molding, and wondered how the frilly heck they’d fallen into a conversation that was going to get her killed by their mother. Exhaling Buffy dropped her chin back towards her chest and addressed Dawn, “While that’s valid. Faith needs to stop talking to you about her love life.”

“She calls them sexcapades,” Dawn clarified in a helpful way. 

Buffy ignored laughter from the peanut gallery near the coffee maker. “Oh. My. God.” 

“Calm down.” Dawn sniffed as if Buffy’s outrage was ridiculous, “It’s not like she goes into detail. I’ve heard and seen worse watching Grey’s Anatomy with you.” 

“Fair point,” green eyes narrowed as Buffy directed them towards their hosts. “So what do you mean by sexual in nature? Like they can cause lust bunnies the way others can cause terror?” 

“Mostly,” There was something about the way Micah said that one word both a truth and a lie.

“You know what?” Buffy waived a hand, “I’m not ready for the full Monty just yet. My biggest concern is Dawn. Will they leave her alone?” 

“Yes,” Anita answered and didn’t bother to hide her relief at the safer of topic choices. “Dawn is under eighteen. They won’t touch her.” 

“Jean-Claude honors the laws of your country.” Damian’s head inclined and the cascade of his hair was such a deep rich red that Buffy had hair envy for just a moment—but she’d done red hair once and it had been a disaster. 

“I can take care of myself,” Dawn’s chin was tucked tight to her chest but that did little to muffle her words. 

Her mouth opened, ready to make a snappish comeback but Buffy caught Micah’s raised brow and it deflated her urge to mock. Extracting her arms from around her sister Buffy sat back and nudged her until Dawn sighed and looked up. 

“You are thirteen. You deserve to be taken care of and looked after.” Her hand reached out, slipping through Dawn’s hair to brush it back from her face before continuing, “I got you.” 

“I can help,” Dawn persisted, “Mom takes care of us and Faith when she lets her. We take care of each other. We’re a family,” her mouth quirked and some of her usual sass colored the last bit, “It’s kinda what we do.” 

“I can’t argue with that,” Buffy agreed, ignoring Dawn beaming at her she tacked on, “But I’m the big sister and it’s sorta my job to keep you safe.” 

The clink of ceramic striking tile lifted her head and Buffy watched Nathaniel leave the kitchen. Merle sending a concerned look after him. Micah moved to rise, but Anita laid a hand on his arm and shook her head. “I got it.” 

She followed Nathaniel from the room. Damian stared after her before his shoulders slumped and he seemed at a loss as to what to do. Buffy watched him a moment before ordering, “Sit,” and put a bit of power behind it like Faith did when she told the lesser lions to back off. 

He sat and then stiffened, most likely surprised he’d taken orders from a teenager, and Buffy offered him a smile of encouragement without meeting his gaze. His hands flexed, settling on his knees and they were pale—like beyond vampire pale. Buffy’s brows rose before she looked back up and found him frowning at her. 

A brow arched before she decided to come out swinging, “How do you know him?” 

“Angelus?” Damian made the name a question before his body fell into stillness for the span of several heartbeats. Dawn leaned into Buffy, slightly behind so Buffy remained between her and Damian while he screamed otherworldly. 

He blinked, body falling back into a more casual pose, but his back was still ballerina straight. “My old master was fond of him.” 

“Henrich?” Buffy made the name a question. Darla’s maker was scarier than most, but she’d only meet him in passing and he’d thankfully left Darla back in the old country. 

“No,” Damian retorted. 

“Henrich?” Dawn questioned from beside her. 

“The one they all called Master,” Buffy explained and tacked on for Dawn’s benefit. “Dalton was a chatty vampire.” 

“I didn’t like him.” Dawn told the room at large before hastily explaining, “The Master.”

“Me either,” a nagging at the back of her mind brought with it a breathless wash of fear as pieces clicked into the place and she stared at Damian before asking, voice paper thin, “Does your old master haunt dreams?” 

He hissed, rising to his feet, and moving swiftly back from her. Noah and Merle parted as he drew near to them and Buffy’s gaze followed him in his retreat. Bravery, or stupidity, had her searching his face. Those pale green eyes were wide with fear, but his face was contorted with something close to disgust. 

Buffy lowered her voice before she admitted, “She’s visited mine.” Micah opened his mouth as if to question her and Buffy shook her head. “I intend to tell my therapist all about it. We don’t need to rehash it now and I don’t need to turn furry.”

“Therapy? You think therapy can aid you against her touch?” There may have been derision in Damian’s tone. 

“No,” Buffy countered, “I think it can help me work through the fears she likes to feed on.” 

“She causes that fear. Her presence. Her will,” he shook his head, “How will talking fix that?” 

“It won’t,” Buffy rose, Dawn made a protesting noise, but Buffy was focused on the vampire who was starting to remind her of Dalton in the saddest possible way. “But ignoring it doesn’t make it better either.”

Dalton had been trapped with a group that terrified him. Drusilla’s adoration of William kept him safe—few would risk her wrath—but Dalton had no such protector. He’d been anyone’s meat and forced to torment others with his ability to rot because doing so tormented him. 

Buffy hadn’t been able to help him. She’d barely been able to help herself. 

“I’m sorry,” she told Damian and meant it. 

There was the briefest flash of disdain, someone so young pitying him, but he seemed to realize the futility of it and inclined his head. “I would not wish Angelus on an enemy.” 

“Me either,” feeling exposed and uncomfortable Buffy flited her gaze around the room before offering a hand to Dawn. She scrambled off her chair and hurried to her side. Buffy looked to Micah and asked, “Can we take this outside? I’m feeling claustrophobic.”

“Of course,” Micah rose and motioned her to follow him to the sliding doors. 

The sisters did as requested, making their way across the kitchen and into the humid evening. Dawn released her tight grip as soon as they left the house and walked to the edge of the porch that shared a backyard with a wide expanse of trees. Merle followed them out, but Noah and Damian remained inside when Micah shut the door. 

Buffy chose to ignore them a moment, eyes closing as she resisted her first instinct to lash out, forcing herself to focus on her breathing and ignore the fear twisting in her gut. The night air felt heavy against her skin and filled with the dry scent of the forest. Her nose twitched when she caught scent of a rabbit deep in the bush, but not far enough. Her head turned, facing the forest when her eyes opened and focused on the section of woods that held a bit of fluff and meat. 

“We can finish this another time.” Micah offered and Merle made a noise of agreement. 

Turning her back on the forest and the distraction of the rabbit, no matter how tempting, Buffy refocused on her host. “What else did you want to talk about?” 

Dawn stepped away from the railing and agreed, “What she said,” while motioning towards Buffy. 

Her mouth quirked, amused and just a little relieved as Dawn seemed to be taking the evenings events in stride. A sigh settled her shoulders before Buffy refocused on Micah. “We’re in agreement.” 

“I wasn’t intending to ask any more questions tonight,” Micah surprised her and his smile spread with the raising of her brows, “We have food coming in about half hour. I was hoping you’d like to join the others watching the movie and then eat.” 

“Oh,” Buffy glanced at Dawn, who shrugged, “Okay. We can do that.” 

Dawn requested of Micah, “Can Faith come next time?” 

“I don’t see why not,” was a better answer than Buffy had expected and both of them smiled. “Had I known how tonight was going to turn out I would’ve advised you to bring her. I’m sure you’d feel more,” he hesitated before settling on, “ _comfortable_ with her here.”

“I’m _comfortable_ with Buffy,” there was a bit of growl to Dawn’s voice before she stepped up and caught Buffy’s hand. 

A perhaps too tight squeeze of reassurance had Dawn looking up at her as Buffy assure her. “I don’t think Micah meant to insult me, Dawnie.”

There was stubborn set to her chin that did not bode well for Micah as Dawn asserted, “You’re enough.” 

“I know,” Buffy countered, sure of herself and Dawn’s love of her even if the cockiness caused said sister to roll her eyes in expiration. 

Micah was glancing back and forth between then before he sort of gave up and opened the sliding door. Merle motioned them to precede him. Buffy dragged Dawn forward by her grip on her hand as she followed Micah into an empty kitchen. Dawn wiggled her hand free as Buffy made her way towards the abandoned coffee mugs on the kitchen table and started to collect them. Merle followed her led and they straightened the kitchen while Dawn and Micah watched them. 

“I didn’t mean to insult Buffy,” Micah told Dawn if a bit awkwardly. 

“It’s okay,” Dawn smiled then, “I insult her all the time.” 

“That she does,” Buffy agreed as presented Merle with rinsed mugs to be placed in the dishwasher. 

“Smaller siblings tend to do that,” Merle told Buffy conversationally. 

“Ha!” Dawn scoffed. “Smaller? I’m barely an inch shorter than her now,” she leaned slightly into Micah, “My plan is working.” 

“Your plan to outgrow me?” Buffy questioned. 

“Yup!” Dawn popped the P with far too much enthusiasm as far as Buffy was concerned. 

“So that traveling circus scenario might get you in less trouble with your mom,” Micah observed, tone mild enough that Buffy was having a hard time telling if he was serious or not, but she was hedging her bets on him joking. 

An affronted sound escaped Dawn, “Traitor!” 

“He’s got a valid point,” Merle tacked on for good measure. 

“Hey!” Dawn pouted. 

“She protects you,” Micah reminded Dawn, “She’s enough.” 

Dawn’s shoulder slumped, “She does and she is,” her head inclined and she looked at Buffy. “Sorry.” 

Buffy looked first at Dawn, stunned, then to Micah and requested. “Can you teach me how you did that?” 

“Unlikely,” Micah sounded regretful, “My little sister was similarly endearing.” 

“You have a little sister?” Dawn questioned, offended, “Then you know it’s our job to tease!” 

“I do,” he inclined his head, “But she’s not a shifter and I’m not her protector.”

“Well if you’re going to use logic.” Dawn sighed before she shrugged. “I’ll try.” 

“It’ll hurt her standing in the pard if you don’t show her respect,” Merle advised Dawn. 

“Oh,” Dawn looked at Buffy. “I’ll try, but at home—”

“Home is home,” Buffy interrupted and then thought to tack on, “And the same goes for Faith.” 

“Got it,” she turned a hopeful look on Micah, “Can we watch the movie now?”

“Sure,” Micah agreed. 

Dawn headed into the living room and Buffy pitched her voice low before telling the two men, “You are my new favorite people.” 

Micah sent an amused look at Dawn’s back at the vexing noise she made before he advised, “Merle’s right. She needs to treat you more respectfully when around other shifters. I know she’s your little sister and far younger than you, but that won’t matter to most.” 

“I’ll talk to her,” Buffy cast a look to the now empty entryway, “Maybe Faith can help me convince her.”

“We can help with this,” Merle assured her. 

“Thank you,” Buffy said and meant it. Her smile widened before she asked, “So what are we eating?”


End file.
